Anakin Again?
by Mina1
Summary: 8yrold Luke Skywalker collides headfirst with trouble as Vader shows up unexplained over Tatooine. Separated from his guardians and on the run, Luke finds himself in the hands of slavers and the Lars' must call in a crazy old wizard to help.
1. Rebirth

**Disclaimer** – Lucas owns the characters in this story. He's hidden them away somewhere dark and dusty whilst he's got his mind on episode2, so I snuck in and broke them out for a quick jaunt in the sunshine. I wish I was making money from them, but unfortunately it's all in the name of 'fun'.

**Setting** – Eight years post Episode Three.

_Note: this is an old, old story which isn't the finest piece I've ever written! I'm only leaving it here for posterity. It was written before the release of AOTC - hence Owen and Beru's background is somewhat different to the canon explanation for their relationship to Luke. _

**ANAKIN AGAIN?**

**Episode One - Rebirth**

**Prologue**

The tortured hiss of his breathing was the only sound to intrude upon the silence of Darth Vader's quarters aboard the Star Destroyer _Adamant_. His fingers brushed aside the datapad he had been reading. It fell from the table to the floor with a muffled _clang_, and Vader reached for the communications board.

Even as he flicked it on, calling the Bridge, a part of Vader hesitated. Perhaps he should simply ignore this information - there was a multitude of excuses for doing so; a hundred other duties would he could easily prioritise above this one. Because he had sworn that he would never go back there, never think about that planet again... never allow his past to corrupt his present.

But... he had also sworn to banish slavery on that planet, and the presence of slavers in the system was something he could not ignore. And the planet's strange magnetism pulled its former slave back - again.

"Admiral, set course for Tatooine. Full speed."

**  
Chapter One**

The small figure lay prone on the shallow ridge, dwarfed by dunes, his toes playing with the fine material, his homespun clothes whiter than the Tatooine sand.

He had his hands crossed behind his head, fingers teasing the sand to fall between them. It slipped down into his hair and between his toes but he didn't care. His Aunt would probably have a fit about him needing an actual water shower to get it out - but that was okay.

Sunshine and sand, sweltering heat, the heatwaves rising from the desert surface: these were the few things the small boy had known for most his life. Sand and sweat and toil and tears. They didn't mar his features – soft tanned skin and crystal clear, intelligent blue eyes framed by an unruly mop of shock-blonde hair. He looked like a part of the desert, like the he belonged on that dune, staring into the sky, dreaming the noon away.

There was nothing but peace on his face as a brief and rare wind caught the loose sand and it blew it over the dune to churn at his feet. He didn't pay it any attention, except to wonder briefly that something so dry could mimic the water his home planet was so parched of.

The sand was hot beneath his back, but Luke Skywalker didn't squirm. He was staring up at the sky, the twin suns ridding high in the Tatooine afternoon, watching the rare slithers of clouds rush across the dusty planet. He fancied he could see small, grey dots in the sky, speeding out to space.

Ships. _Space_ships.

Luke grinned.

What he wouldn't give to be up there with them, flying through space. He closed his eyes, unable to rid himself of the wide smile the thoughts brought.

Flying.

He would make the ships go faster than anyone else. He would twist and juke and climb and dive. Just like _that_.

The images made him smile wider. For a minute he was Luke Skywalker, _pilot_. And he wasn't a eight-year-old kid – he was old. He was at least ten. And he had a helmet – a shiny helmet emblazoned with his name, and a very, _very_ fast ship.

He opened his eyes again, not seeing the vivid blue atmosphere or the burning suns above it. He saw space. Stars and planets and asteroids and...

He frowned, crumpling his features with the pout. He couldn't visualise anything else. He didn't _know_ about anything else. Stuck on this dustball where everything was sand or parched rock, he'd never known anything else. What was out there?

The grin returned – _everything_ was out there. Adventure, fun, friends, enemies, _hyperspace_. He wished he knew what hyperspace looked like.

"Luke!"

His aunt's shrill voice broke his thoughts and he sat upright, the sand blowing around him at the sudden movement. More sand fell from his hair and into his eyes. He raked fingers through the unruly bleached blonde hair and squeezed his eyes shut, pushing the sand back down where it belonged. He caught a sandy sleeve and wiped his eyes, smearing more grit around his face.

"Luke!"

Luke scrambled to find his boots and brushed ruthlessly at the sand hiding between his toes before yanking them on. "I'm coming, Aunt Beru!" he called out, voice sing-song, images of diving through space still clambering through his mind.

He took a second to brush the worst of the sand away and ran quickly towards the small homestead's sunken courtyard. The sand drifted over the edge and fell in a powdered stream to Beru's brushed floor as he skidded to stop. Standing in the kitchen doorway, a washcloth in her hands, she frowned at her small charge as his small head peered down at her sheepishly. Luke tried another grin and it worked – Beru always said he had a winning smile, and he'd learnt that it would get him out of most of the trouble he tended to collide head-on with. 

"Luke, could you come down here?"

Luke wasn't great at reading expressions, but Beru's wrinkled brow and her sad eyes told him something was wrong. "Sure..." he said, bowing his head like he felt her sadness. The fighters still flew in his mind, though. _Dive, roll, turn it into a climb. Full power to the engines_.

He clambered down the stone steps and crossed the courtyard quickly, relishing the sudden, welcome cool in the shade. He brushed at his hair again and more sand fell in front of his eyes.

Luke placed a small tanned hand on the doorway to the kitchen and looked in to the lounge area beyond. He didn't know what the word 'trepidation' meant, but he felt it.

Luke was small for his age, skinny but lithe. He peered around the doorway, trying to spy on the conversation he could hear but not quite make out - but his aunt and uncle were watching for him and abruptly halted their discussion.

Feeling uncharacteristically nervous, Luke walked into the kitchen area, sand trailing behind him. When Beru didn't mention his dishevelled state he knew something was wrong. He quickly lost the grin and starfighters fell from his mind.

"What's wrong?"

Beru's big eyes focused on him. "Luke, we have to go away for a little while," Beru said. She placed a hand on his messed-up hair and more sand fell to the floor. She didn't mention it even then.

"Away...?" Luke's voice was very small, and marked with excitement. "In a ship?" His eyes burned with enthusiasm.

Beru gave a warning glance to her husband as Owen growled under his breath. The boy was obsessed. "No Luke, but away from here." Beru smiled kindly.

He didn't get it. So they were going away for a while – that was pretty unusual, and pretty _exciting_, but not scary. Or sad. "Why?" 

Beru looked troubled, "There's just some people coming we don't want to see," she said. Cryptically. Always cryptically.

Luke's mood soured. "But- "

Owen stepped forward, placed both big hands on Luke's shoulders and spun the boy around before he could ask questions. As always.

"Go run and pack now." His voice was stern, as Owen always was and Luke had long learnt to bite back his questions at that tone. "Don't waste time." He gave the boy a push and Luke ran from the room to his small bedroom.

---

Beru watched her charge disappear into his bedroom with a confused look on his small face. "Where's left to run to?" she whispered. Owen didn't reply.

Beru turned to her long-suffering husband and dared to place a hand against his cheek. He started, then looked at her sadly. His own calloused hand came up and grasped hers softly.

Owen was a good man; a loyal, hardworking man. And he would defend Luke with his life, even if he rarely showed the compassion burning deep in his heart. Beru could see it though, in his eyes. And it was on fire now, his need to protect his family fuelling it.

"I don't know," he said sadly. "Is this it, B? Does he know?"

Beru felt her muscles coil. Owen gathered her into a hug, a rare gesture for him. But these were rare circumstances. "If Anakin knew, he would have descended on us without warning, Owen. It has to be a coincidence." She felt the muscles in his back tense at that name.

"Anakin is dead, Beru."

She bowed her head sadly. "Yes, I know."

Owen brushed her shoulder-length hair softly, tucking it behind her ear. Sounds of hurried packing came from the small bedroom down the hall. His eyes strayed into the dark corridor. _Anakin is dead - and not reincarnated, I hope, _he thought.__

The need for action, to protect Luke, stirred him out of the reverie those kind of thoughts would lead to. He pushed Beru away from him and held her at arms length. "This isn't it. I won't allow it to be. I haven't brought that boy up for the past eight years to-" His jaw was set firmly, the stubble not eclipsing his determination. Beru knew he could never finish that sentence.

"Where are we going to run to?" She wiped unshed tears from her eyes. The past was creeping up again, as they'd always known it would. "Maybe the Darklighters-"

"No. That's too close."

"Where then?" She was thinking furiously. They had to hide, and they had to hide fast. The imperial ship in orbit could send down troopers at any time.

"The best place to hide is in plain sight."

Beru's head shot up at the voice – not Owen's, but another equally familiar one. Owen looked up and Beru found herself stepping backwards from the look of hate in his eyes. 

"Obi-Wan." It was almost a swear word. "How long have you been standing there?"

The man was silhouetted against the bright noon sun, his cloak covering his weathered features, but there was no mistaking the errant Jedi. He stepped into the small room, face still in shadow. Obi-Wan took down the cowl of the long robe and stepped forward, a true Jedi entrance. Owen scowled. He glanced back towards Luke's room but the boy hadn't come out.

"Not long," Obi-Wan assured him. "Hello, Beru." He turned a kindly gaze on the woman.

"Obi-Wan, get out of-"

Beru cut him off with a glance and a sharp word. "Not now, Owen. He can help us." She turned to the dark-haired man, still strikingly handsome despite the grey showing at his temples. It hadn't been there the last time she'd seen him. Some eight years ago now. "Anakin knows that, Obi-Wan."

The man nodded, his gaze piercing, his expression grim. "But Anakin is dead."

Beru was going to protest that Vader would carry the same knowledge but...

"Where do you suggest then?"

Obi-Wan buried his hands in the cloak's wide sleeves and steeled himself. "Mos Espa."

Owen let a low moan out of pain and Beru shook her head furiously. "No. No! Not there."

Her lips made to make more protestation but the Jedi's gaze silenced her. "Neither Anakin nor Vader would go back there."

There was no readable expression on his face. Beru frowned. Twisted logic, but still logic.

Owen moved towards the Jedi and he didn't back away. His hands wrung together and he looked away, brow furrowed. "Mos Espa is a –" He trailed off and sighed, hands balling into fists. "Is a good idea." Even Owen had to admit it made a strange, twisted sense. Anakin had sworn never to return, and Vader had his reasons too. He stood for a few seconds in contemplation before Obi-Wan stirred.

"We must leave, and quickly. He knows this homestead." Obi-Wan didn't offer whether 'he' was Anakin or Vader.

Owen shook his head. "No. You're not coming with us." His dislike of the man suddenly erupted again. "And you're not going near the boy, you hear me?"

His voice was raised. He was almost shouting. Beru put an arm on his hand but it was too late, a small blonde head had appeared around the corner.

Blue eyes fixed on uncle and aunt to ask a question, mouth forming the words, then gaping at the stranger. The small holdall in his hand fell to the floor forgotten.

"Who are you?" He walked right up to the man, and stared the long distance up to his face. Obi-Wan fixed him with a kind smile and Owen bristled as he placed a hand on Luke's shoulder, only Beru tightening her hand quieting him. Luke stared transfixed into the Jedi's deep eyes.

"A friend, young Luke."

The boy's eyes narrowed in suspicion and he turned to look at Owen. His uncle cut the questions short. "We're leaving now Luke, go out to the speeder and pack your stuff."

"But-"

"Do it, boy."

Luke's jaw hardened and he moved for his bag. Before Owen could stop him, Luke returned, small hand extended to the cloaked man.

"It was nice to meet you, sir." He smiled.

Obi-Wan looked across at Owen in surprise, and a smile flickered across mouth. He bent to the child's level and shook his hand firmly. "Nice to meet you, too. My name is Ben. I hope I see you again, young man."

Luke grinned and disappeared through the doorway, bag slung over his shoulder.

"He's so alike..." Obi-Wan murmured.

"Leave." Owen stepped forward and Obi-Wan rose to his feet. "And don't follow us."

Obi-Wan only nodded as Owen took Beru's hand and stormed past the Jedi to the garage. He watched them leave, his eyes staying on the intense young boy, his breath catching in his throat.

**Chapter Two**

"Luke, what are you doing?"

Luke climbed back into the speeder back seat, "Getting a blanket." He said, teeth chattering. The wind blew his hair in front of his face and he swiped at it, burying himself under the coverlet he had snatched from the back compartment.

His aunt glanced at his uncle and then leaned over to him. "You cold, honey?"

Luke nodded as he shivered. Dusk had fallen and they were still travelling. Had been for hours now, the second sun just setting over the horizon. His aunt and uncle had been very quiet, Owen driving in silence, Beru offering only a few cursory observations. Luke had picked up on the sour mood and been unusually quite in turn.

Beru leaned over and the wind swept her soft, brown hair in front of her eyes. She wrapped Luke tighter in the blanket and smiled at him. He thought she wanted to say something, but instead she just smiled again and turned back to stare forwards.

"Aunt Beru?"

She turned back to Luke. "Yes?"

"Where are we going?" He lifted the blanket higher under his chin.

"Away, honey."

Luke's teeth chattered. "But _where_."

"Luke-" She turned to look at his Uncle, but he just shrugged. "To the city."

He frowned even as he felt excitement thrill through him. "Mos Eisely?"

Beru shook her head and he felt his growing smile fade. There was something terribly serious in her expression.

"No, Luke. Further than that. Mos Espa."

Luke blinked hair out of his eyes and made a true expression of his understanding of that: "Huh?"

She managed a smile. "We could be travelling a while. Why don't you try and get some sleep, huh?"

Luke pursed cold lips in concentration, then nodded. Beru smiled at the very adult expression and turned around again. He hunkered down – the back seat offered very little protection from the desert nights, the temperature falling rapidly and making him shiver. The heating unit was broken, too. Luke blushed as he remembered trying to fix it. He had as well, he just wasn't quite sure how – Owen had pulled him away, mad when he'd seen what Luke had done. His punch to the unit was what'd broken it a second time. He found his aunt and uncle's current mood disconcerting. Especially his aunt's it wasn't like her to look so down.

Luke closed his eyes and tried to sleep, breath beginning to crystallise in front of him in the frigid air.

---

"Beru, take Luke and go get some provisions. I'll clear it with the owner." Owen had lifted the first of their bags from the speeder and slung it over his shoulders, offering a grim but reassuring smile to his wife.

"Will you be alright?" she asked him. Her hand was wrapped firmly around Luke's arm, white marks forming under her fingertips where she clung to boy. The boy was still gaping at the city and didn't seem to notice the grip. He hadn't stopped staring since they had reached the outskirts of the sprawling port. Everything amazed and enticed him and his eyes were wild with excitement. He had barely squeaked his amazement, knowing Owen's dislike for his lust of adventure, but it was impossible for a eight-year-old to keep the joy from his face.

Behind them, an old Corellian ship lumbered up on repulsorlifts, taking off from some private docking bay.

Luke stared at it, mouth working but no words coming out. The ship rose straight over them and moved off behind them. Luke followed it the whole way, neck craning to keep it in view until Owen was sure the boy would fall over backwards trying to watch it fly overhead.

He studied the child, dishevelled as ever and grinning wildly. Luke looked at his Aunt. "Did you _see_ that?" The grin was light-years wide.

Beru looked at Owen, frowning slightly. Her hair was forced back into a plait to keep it out of her eyes. Luke was making them stand out as outsiders when they really needed to blend in.

Owen knelt in front of his small charge and placed both hands on his thin shoulders. He captured Luke's gaze before speaking. The boy needed a focus or he'd draw attention to them with all his gaping.

"Luke, I need you to do me a big favour." The boy gaped at him now before shutting his mouth and nodding sternly.

"I need to rely on you to look after your aunt for me. Can you do that?" 

Beru smiled and covered her mouth with her free hand. But the reaction from Luke was everything Owen must have hoped for.: his shoulders squared and his jaw set firm, and the boy was deadly serious. "Yes, sir." His own hand grasped protectively around his aunt's, spaceships and strange aliens forgotten.

"Good boy." Owen made sure to keep the serious expression on his face. He stood again and nodded to his wife. "Don't be too long." 

She smiled and Luke stepped closer to her.

---

Beru was bargaining for some sort of fruit from one of the many street stalls that lined the streets of Mos Espa. Luke was burying his feelings of awe with some difficulty. Aliens, droids, ships, so _many_ people, more than he had seen in all his life... and all crammed together into such a small space. He'd only imagined this kind of place. Beru was talking sternly with a strange alien stallholder, the aliens' quadruple arms thrown up in distaste. Luke glanced around. He was trying to watch everything and everybody at once. His uncle had charged him with the safety of his aunt and Luke wasn't about to betray that trust.

And...well looking around let him watch Mos Espa bustle her way through the afternoon.

"Come on, Luke."

His aunt hadn't bought the fruit, and was moving on to the next stall. Luke walked along a step behind her, trying to keep up with her fast gait. His aunt was dressed differently than he was used to. More like a city dweller - with an indigo skirt wrapped in big folds around a petite waist and clinched with a cheap bone fastener, a tight tunic in the same coarse material and her hair plaited. Luke had also been redressed and he wasn't comfortable in the new clothes, a shade darker than his farming whites.

He wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead as they tried to keep in the shadows whilst moving. His aunt, talking to another stallholder, didn't see the ship approaching slowly, low over the city. Luke, kind of bored with buying fruit, watched the sleek black ship as she flew a few metres away overhead, the triangular array of wings slowly folding upwards around a beak-shaped nose. Luke's mind registered that it was a pretty cool design at the same time as realising it was a lot sleeker and newer than the other ships he had seen. It disappeared into the distance, falling below the line of the buildings.

Luke's eyes refocused back on his immediate surroundings and he found himself staring at a small stall in a corner, a gnarled old woman staring right back at him. Luke quickly looked to his feet and shuffled uncomfortably. Beru continued arguing.

After what he thought was a good length of time, his eyes came back up. The woman still stared.

Curious and unnerved, Luke let go of his aunt's hand and walked towards the stall. She didn't seem to notice he'd gone.

He had to dodge a dewback crossing the street, and most of the other denizens tried to trample him, barely noticing the small boy.

The woman watched him approach. He grey hair in dreadlocks that had been pulled tightly away from her face, making the lines in her face look deeper. Luke thought she had to be really old.

She smiled slightly at him as he stopped in front of her, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"There's a storm coming Ani, better get to cover." She leaned towards him and smiled.

Luke felt like taking a step back in confusion. He was also a bit annoyed. Annie was a girls name and he was definitely a boy.

"My name isn't Annie, it's Luke. Annie is a girls name."

She looked at him in confusion and shook her head. "Are you sure?"

Luke was feeling increasingly uneasy. He shifted his feet. "Sure I'm sure."

"Hmmm..."

Her gaze suddenly focused on something else behind Luke's view and Luke whirled. He saw flashes of white approaching from the direction that strange ship had landed. He turned back to her, a frown puckering his brow. "What's that?"

The old woman just blinked at him. Luke turned back, searching for his aunt. But he couldn't see her - there were too many people and he felt panic rise in his throat.

"Aunt Beru-! Where-!"

A cold wrinkled hand had clamped across his mouth as he started to shout and the old woman whispered in his ear.

"Shhhsh! Quiet Ani!"

Luke struggled to get out of her grasp, annoyed at that name, scared for Beru. The woman's hair brushed against his cheek, gritty with sand.

Luke followed her gaze and saw the white-clothed people march closer, and realised it wasn't clothing but armour. The old woman shook. "There's a storm coming!" She spun Luke around, shielding him with her body then shoved him forward. "Run, Ani!"

He stumbled forwards, and turned to tell her his name was _Luke_. Then he saw the rigid white masks of stormtroopers and a sudden fear gripped his heart.

"Run Ani!" she urged him again, and Luke did run. His legs were leaden, his heart was pounding in his chest, and there was a fast thrumming sound against his temples. In his fear he ran into the edge of her stall, rebounded off it and fell on his knees.

"Run!" she hissed.

Luke clambered back up again and pelted forwards.

He was small and he was fast – both advantages. He dived between legs of the passers by, sprinting as fast as his terrified legs could carry him, never looking back to see if the white armoured figures were following him.

He made it around a street corner and didn't stop, something telling him he had to keep going.

_But Aunt Beru! You_ promised _Uncle Owen!_

He couldn't stop, he had to keep running. His cheeks were flushed and he was panting for breath as he tore down the street. He didn't even know what he was running from.

More of the white armoured figures appeared at the end of the street he was running down and he collided with a tall pair of legs whilst his attention was drawn to the terrifying masks they wore. His heart was racing.

"S-s-sorry!" He gasped as he picked himself up off the floor. The alien grunted at him and walked on. Luke shook the stars from his eyes and saw the troopers were closer. And he recognised a blaster when he saw one, too.

Luke was starting to shake now, terrified.

_Be strong. Keep calm. Think!_

He had to hide. He was small; he could hide.

He looked around the street, hair plastering itself to his forehead. Everywhere was lined with doorways to shops or storage houses, and they all looked pretty solidly locked.

_Come on, Skywalker. What would dad do?_

He fell back on the old reserve – act like the father he so revered. The non-existent phantom his imagination had created. What would he do? His eyes fell on a small air bracket in the wall of a building on the other side of the street. It was dusty and broken, small and dark. Perfect.

He ran for it, diving between legs. He didn't think the white-clad men had noticed him yet, but he didn't spare a glance. He reached the small pane of punctured transparisteel slats and his fingers dug around it's edges. It was already loose and its frame was crumbling – a solid tug and it lifted upwards.

_Quickly; quietly._

He slid his legs under the pane and wriggled in the sand, no one sparing the boy a glance. Then he pushed his torso through the small opening, scrambling backwards along the sandy ground as white-booted feet approached ever closer.

Luke realised he hadn't looked at what was beyond the air bracket, but it was too late now. He bit down hard and shoved his body through, holding his breath as the troopers got within metres of him.

A few seconds of falling, the bracket falling back into position with a muffled clang and-

He hit the floor and clamped a hand over his mouth to stop himself crying out at the hard landing. Couldn't afford that now. Got to be _quiet._

He had landed somewhere dusty, throwing it up into the air in a cloud, and it threatened to make him cough and choke. The hand clamped down harder and he scuttled up against the outside wall holding his breath.

Through the dim light reaching the small room he had landed in, he saw the shadows of the troopers move against a far wall through the falling dust.

_Don't look, don't look!_

The shadows didn't pause as they passed by and Luke stayed very still in the quite dark.

One minute. Two minutes. Five minutes. Still nothing.

Now he had to move, but his muscles had locked into position in his fright. Luke fought with himself, trying to get them to move despite the paralysing fear. His eyes blinked in the dust, trying to make anything out in the dark. What little light there was lay in stripes from the slats of the grate on the far stone wall.

Luke didn't manage to stand, but he did manage to crawl slowly across the floor, eyes getting accustomed. He saw the prints his movement left in the thick carpet of dust. The room seemed pretty small and cold, very dusty like it hadn't been used in a long time. He had to get out and back to his aunt!

She had been with that crowd, if those men had found her...

Fear took his strength again and he felt it boil up inside him. He looked around desperately, only then realising how far he had fallen. The grate was a good two metres above his head, and there was nothing else in the room apart from him.

He looked up despairingly at the distant light. It might as well be a million light-years away. He felt tears well up in his sand-soared eyes and sting him as they fell down his cheeks.


	2. Resolve

**Disclaimer** – Lucas owns the characters in this story. He's hidden them away somewhere dark and dusty whilst he's got his mind on episode2, so I snuck in and broke them out for a quick jaunt in the sunshine. I wish I was making money from them, but unfortunately it's all in the name of 'fun'.

**Setting** – Eight years post Episode Three.

_Note: this is an old, old story which isn't the finest piece I've ever written! I'm only leaving it here for posterity. It was written before the release of AOTC - hence Owen and Beru's background is somewhat different to the canon explanation for their relationship to Luke. _

**ANAKIN AGAIN?**

**Episode Two - Resolve**

**Chapter One**

Beru peered out from beneath the skirt of the market stall, desperately searching for her small nephew. White armoured feet marched past and she hid back under the shade, swearing and cursing with everything she knew in basic, and some other more expressionate languages. _One minute_. She had let him out of her sight for a single minute, and now this. Imperial Stormtroopers, right here. She had no idea if they were searching for Luke and her – _and_ _Owen!_ – but they couldn't take the risk. And the boy had disappeared. _Disappeared_.

What if they'd found him? What if they had him? What if _Vader_ had him? Her eyes closed in fear and grief and she hated herself for wishing the boy dead instead.

She'd only taken her eyes off him for _one minute!_

She dug the comlink from her bag when she thought the troopers had passed and flicked it on. "Owen?" she whispered.

"Beru? What is it?" Owen's voice betrayed worry. She wriggled uncomfortably in the cold sand.

"Stormtroopers, Owen." she whispered.

"Here?"

"Here, now. In the market place. I'm hiding."

Owen caught the singular. "Where's Luke?" His deep concern evident, a concern he never let the boy see if possible. He thought it made him seem weak.

"I don't know. He disappeared."

"_Disappeared?_"

"No, not like that." She could almost imagine him cursing the Force. "I mean he wandered off. And then the troopers turned up."

There was an ominous silence from the other. "Owen, I can't see him anywhere."

"Have they got him?" His voice trembled. Owen's voice _never_ trembled.

She bit her lip. "I...I don't know. I don't think so."

"Beru, I'm coming out there. I'm-"

"No! Owen, stay put. I'll look for Luke when I get the chance. Your charging in is just going to arouse suspicion. We don't even know they're here looking for us."

"Beru-"

"Shssh!"

She'd seen movement outside, shadows under the skirt of the stall. They had stopped. She held her breath; Owen didn't speak.

A white-clad hand lifted up the homespun material and a blaster butt was pointed in her face. She let out a small gasp.

"Beru?" Owen's voice asked over the commlink.

She didn't answer as a white and black mask appeared above the blaster.

"Come out of there."

The blaster didn't leave room for arguments.

---

Luke brushed angrily at the tears scoring his red cheeks. He wasn't a kid – he shouldn't be crying. But he was completely confused, he felt like such an idiot. Why had he run? What had made him run? He didn't know. And now he thought about it, squatted down in a corner of the dusty room, he wasn't sure it hadn't all been in his head.

He should _never_ of gone near that strange old woman that insisted he was a girl. _A_ _girl!_

He raked a sweaty palm through his unruly hair. Boy, he'd been a real idiot. He was in for it now. First, he'd left his aunt when he'd _promised_ his uncle he'd take care of her. Second, he'd spoken to and listened to that mad street seller. Third, he'd freaked when he'd seen that white armour and ran for it, not bothering to try and find his aunt even. And fourth, he hadn't even checked where he was running to before diving in, so now he was stuck in this dusty old room.

Crying like a baby.

His small hands balled into fists and he clambered to his feet, determined, jaw set. He wasn't going to make his fifth mistake by sitting her bawling when he should be _doing_ something. His hands found the cold stone wall behind his back and he began to trace it with his fingers in the dark. Logically, there was no point in the small room if there wasn't a doorway somewhere.

Luke was choking with the dust and his feet skidded along the floor. His fingers found a seam and he traced it up and down excitedly, glad he'd been right about something. He found the octagonal hand plate and he bit his lip as he reached up and pressed his palm against it. For a minute nothing happened and Luke just stared into the darkness. Then, a falling of yet more dust, and a door slid slowly in the sidewall. No light came from the entranceway and Luke groped into it, more than a little bit apprehensive. His searching fingers found nothing. He took a step forward and his foot collided with a solid stone block.

He squatted down to the block, found another further up – _steps_.

Steps into darkness.

Luke sucked in air and almost gagged on the sand. He pulled a sleeve down over his hand and placed the material over his mouth, breathing through the makeshift filter.

First step, hands groping the stairwell's cold stone side. Second step. Third, fourth. Still no light and the steps were curving slightly to his left.

---

"What are you doing hiding under there?"

Beru didn't struggle as they clamped binders around her hands. There was still some hope – Luke wasn't here. He must have run. She itched the binders further down her wrists and didn't reply. The trooper hefted his blaster rifle and made to hit her across the back of the neck with it. Beru flinched despite herself – right, what possible reason was there for hiding under a stall talking into a comlink?

The troopers metallic voice spoke again, "Let's start with your name?"

_Beru Lars._ "Beru Soral."

"Well done." The squad commander nodded, "And where are you from?"

"Tatooine." She glared. The man brought the carbine under her chin.

"Less of that. Where?"

_Near Anchorhead. _"Here, the old quarters," she spat, eyes glaring. Another trooper behind the commander had turned out the contents of her bags to the street floor and was rummaging through her belongings. She was sure there was nothing there to give her away. She didn't let her eyes linger on the intrusion for fear of enticing even more suspicion. Her eyes fell back on the death mask leaning into her face. "The slave quarters?"

"Not for the past decade."

The fact she had cited that as her home seemed to mean something to the man.

He turned away from her, talking into the built-in comlink.

Beru fidgeted, looking around nervously. The whole troop was gathered in this small street now. There was no way she could run for it.

The commander turned back to her. "All right Soral, let's go."

"What? Where?" Fear was peaking in her and she had to push it down to keep her voice steady.

The commander strode away from her, his men forcing her to follow him. Beru didn't like this, not one bit.

---

Luke reached the top of the stairway to see a chink of light beneath the dark drape that covered the entranceway. He paused, listening, but there was no noise beyond the material screen. No talking, no machinery, nothing. Another frown creased his small forehead and he quietly moved the heavy material aside.  
The light that filtered through was delicious, like a real water shower after his uncle had had him working all day on the 'vaporators.

The room beyond was as quiet as death, and fashioned like it too. White shrouds covered worktops and cupboards and strange bulky shapes sat in the middle of the floor that Luke couldn't begin to identify. They were grey in the unearthly shades of filtered sunlight through slats high up in the tall walls.

The curtain disturbed dust at the stair entranceway and it swept out in front of him like a wave over the floor. The room was cavenous, going up at least two levels. The bottom looked like an abandoned workshop - there were still tools laid discarded where there owners had thrown them before leaving the room alone for what had to be years. The upper level was reached by a steel ladder, and on the platform –

Luke stared at the large, bulky, white-shrouded shape sat on the durasteel floor, intrigued.

No longer the least bit scared, he ran to the far side of the room leaving small footprints in the settled sand. He grasped the bottom rung and hauled himself upwards, heart pumping for some reason. He didn't know why, but he was completely attracted to that platform, totally ignoring all the equally mysterious shapes on the bottom floor.

He pulled himself onto the platform and brushed the dust from his tunic before walking slowly to the white coverlet, bright even in the dim light. The slats of light fell across it in streaks.

Luke stood for a few moments just looking at it, wondering what was hiding beneath the cover that so made his heart race and his eyes bulge.

He reached a hand out, grabbed a corner of the cover, and with a tug pulled the sheet off. Dust plumed the air as the sheet slithered to his feet. Luke didn't even notice it; he was gaping open-mouthed at the machine underneath. He almost squealed in delight. He couldn't believe it.

"A podracer!"

**Chapter Two**

Owen paced the room uneasily, he fingers grasping the comlink tight in his hand. The man didn't want to do this, - it went against everything he believed, it went against everything he had learnt from the past. But Beru was captured and Luke had disappeared.

He swore in angry Corellian and sat down heavily on the rickety old bed in the rented room, bags still littering the floor.

This was _not_ how things were supposed to have turned out. They'd _had_ to run when the destroyer had turned up in orbit; they couldn't risk sitting on their moisture farm waiting for Vader to return for his son.

His _son._

Owen shook his head sadly. He was so hard on the boy; the kind, gentle, endearing child left in their care. He couldn't help it, it wasn't that he was taking his anger at Anakin out on his son, but he couldn't bear to see the disarming kid turn into another monster. He was trying to _protect_ him but frequently that meant hurting the child, even though Luke didn't have the slightest idea why Owen was doing it.

His hands came up to his head and he sat, bowed, on the end of the bed.

It was always little things that sparked Owen off. The boy knew absolutely nothing about Jedi, the Force - anything that might even nudge him down that path. But still there were moments that made Owen's heart stop in his chest.

When Luke inexplicably knew where things were. When he came into their bedroom at night, worried, after Beru or him was upset. When he got that tingling of fear right before something bad happened. Or when he'd found the broken heater in the speeder, and somehow, _somehow_, fixed it without doing _anything_. Owen had been so angry that time, he cringed as he remembered the small boys streaked cheeks as he shouted at him. He hadn't known what he'd done; he didn't realise he was the image of his father, so many years ago.

No, Owen had never seen Anakin as a child, but Padmé had shown them pictures. Luke wasn't identical by a long shot – he had much more delicate features, and was skinnier, wirier. A lot like his mother. The eyes were the same though, deep and intense.

It wasn't his fault; the kid had no idea. Owen tried to stop himself from taking it out on him but sometimes when he looked at the boy the whole world felt like it was crashing down around him and the nightmares he had of that sweet, passionate young boy turning into his father had Owen waking in the middle of the night, terrified. And very few things terrified Owen Lars – he had seen far too much.

And what terrified him right now was the thought of Luke walking right up to the stormtroopers in his innocence and getting a sharp awakening.

Owen knew he had no choice. He flicked the comlink on, remembering a frequency he hadn't used in a lifetime.

"Owen?" Obi-Wan's voice was hurried and stressed and there was the distinct sound of travel.

"Yes, it's me. We've got a problem." He tried to keep the defeat out of his voice.

"I know. I'm on my way."

Owen ground his teeth, raked a hand through dark hair. "You _said_ you weren't following us."

"I haven't been. I felt a disturbance in the Force. And Vader _is_ on that destroyer, Owen." Obi-Wan sounded truly troubled, which was rare even in those dark times.

"Listen Kenobi-"

"Owen, where is Luke?"

Owen felt his heart sinking. "I don't know."

"You don't _know_?"

Anger made it into his voice. "That's right. I don't know. The troopers have got Beru; Luke has disappeared."

"Owen, you're supposed to guard the boy!" There was a fear in the Jedi's voice and Owen wasn't used to hearing that.

It made him stop himself from biting back. "I know."

Silence. Both men were thinking.

"Obi-Wan, have you seen something...?" Owen hated admitting the Force existed, and even more that it had it's uses.

More silence.

"The Force shows use many things, not all of them true, not all of them untrue."

"_Jedi_!" Owen spat. "Give me a straight answer for once!" He stood and started pacing the room.

"Yes, Owen, I have seen something. I only hope it won't come true."

Owen stood still and gripped the comlink harder. "Vader's up there? You're sure?"

"I don't want to reach out too much, he would sense it and then come down. But...yes. He's there."

"Will he feel Luke?" Owen bit his lip and stared out the small window that overlooked a bustling market.

Silence again. Obi-Wan was being unusually contemplative. "Not if he's not looking for him. And I can't reach out and find him either."

"Great."

"Owen I'm still a few hours out. See if you can find Beru, I'll meet you at the old quarters at sunset."

Owen's hands were sweaty. "I'll find her. _You_ make sure Vader doesn't sense you."

"Don't worry, I've gotten good at hiding."

"I just wish we could say the same for Luke."

---

Luke's hand brushed the smooth surface of the small podracer. She was beautiful. Absolutely stunning. His palm pressed against the cool metal and a thrill went through him like electricity.

Gorgeous.

He traced the curve of the cockpit with small fingers, eyes wide, grin spread across his face, all danger completely forgotten. The yellow paintwork seemed to be calling to him and another one of those weird electric shocks rode up his arm.

_Get in!_

He obeyed the thought and grasped both sides of the cockpit, hauling himself over its side. It rocked under his weight, the twin engines disturbing more dust as they jolted. It was a beautiful design – a small, slightly tapered cockpit and long fluted engines at the front.

Luke sat in the padded seat, just about the right size for him, maybe a bit too big but he imagined it would give him more of a feel for the ship to move with her. His fingers traced the dials and instruments in front of him, instinctively knowing what each did, how it worked, what setting it should be at. He didn't even wonder at that, it was all so natural. A _podracer! _

Podracing had been banned at least a decade ago, although he knew there was an old stadium somewhere around here. He really didn't know why it was banned- it sounded absolutely amazing, hurtling along at mind-boggling speeds; strapping two great engines to your back and going with it. Dangerous. And _fun_.

Owen would have a fit if he knew he was here.

Luke grabbed the controls and flicked hem experimentally. To his utter joy, they spluttered, coughed, and then lit up. He was almost shaking with excitement. He had been _meant_ to find this. It had drawn him like the moth to the lamp.

He flicked another switch and the ship shuddered up on repulsolifts.

Luke grinned. "Yes!"

This was so right, he could feel his small body pulsing with energy in time with the ship. It begged him to start up the main engines.

He looked up to the big, solid, durasteel door in front of him. If he could get that open-

Suddenly hot with the excitement, he stripped off the loose tunic to just the tight vest beneath. He threw the garment aside to land in a heap on the floor. Then he sprang reluctantly from the cockpit and moved to the heavy door.

A control, somewhere there had to be a control to open it and –

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up suddenly and Luke stood stock-still. He turned slowly and the grin fell from his face as he saw the blaster pointed at him and the man behind it, sat on a worktop, staring nonchalantly at the small figure, eyebrows raised.


	3. Realisation

**Disclaimer** – Lucas owns the characters in this story. He's hidden them away somewhere dark and dusty whilst he's got his mind on episode2, so I snuck in and broke them out for a quick jaunt in the sunshine. I wish I was making money from them, but unfortunately it's all in the name of 'fun'.

**Setting** – Eight years post Episode Three.

_Note: this is an old, old story which isn't the finest piece I've ever written! I'm only leaving it here for posterity. It was written before the release of AOTC - hence Owen and Beru's background is somewhat different to the canon explanation for their relationship to Luke. _

**ANAKIN AGAIN?**

**Episode Three - Realisation**

**Chapter One**

Beru walked without being pushed, maintaining a modicum of dignity despite the cuffs. The troop led her to a large docking bay not far from the street they had captured her in. She followed without a word into the cold metal interior, lit by artificial lighting.

Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of the Imperial shuttles parked inside. She did the arithmetic on how many troopers they could have carried and pushed the disturbing thought from her mind.

The real question was whether Vader had come down with them. If he had, they were completely lost.

Her hands itched in the restraints, the metal painfully hot from the Tatooine heat. They lead her forwards and she noticed that this was one of the few places on the planet still devoid of the invasive sand. A man appeared from one of the shuttles, walking slowly down the ramp-way to the permacrete floor. He was dressed in standard Imperial clothing – a major she thought from the markings on his chest.

Her breath came out in a sigh of relief. Obi-Wan had been right – Vader didn't want to go near Mos Espa.

_Just stay hidden, Luke. Everything will be all right._

"Commander?" The Major's brows lifted at the sight of the farmer being brought before him. The stormtrooper stepped forward of the halted group and Beru watched the conversation between the Imperials. She tried to look completely confused and innocent. Everything would _not_ be all right if they did a DNA test to check out her identity.

"Major, we've swept the city but we didn't find any signs of the slavers."

_Slavers!_ Beru started. What slavers? Slavery was outlawed on Tatooine a few years ago.

The Major nodded his fox-like face, grey pallor showing the man was not used to sunshine. "They wouldn't be so obvious."

He turned to eye Beru and looked questionably at the trooper. "So who is this?"

Beru was going to step forward and protest her innocence but a trooper clamped a white-clad had around her bicep and held her back.

"A farmer. Claims her name is Soral, Beru Soral."

"You've brought me a farmer?" The major looked mildly annoyed. "Why?"

"She was acting suspiciously sir, hiding from us, agitated. She also claims to come from the old slave quarters." The stormtrooper was trying to explain himself.

_Tell him not to be so stupid. Tell him to let me go!_

But Beru didn't have any Force sensitivity. The Major turned to her, "Is that right? Slave quarters?" He walked towards her. "What's your business here, farmer?"

"I'm not a farmer. We went bust, had to move here."

The major looked unimpressed. Deep brown eyes looked her up and down. "Poor, living in slave quarters, and with brand new clothes?" He smiled wickedly. "I doubt that, don't you, hmmm?"

Great. She'd managed to fall in with the single intelligent Imperial on the planet.

"Everyone has to buy new clothes some time."

"Hmmm..."

She just stared at him as she saw his brain working. "You want to tell us where the slavers are holed up or would you prefer us to force it out?" He snapped a black glove over one hand and looked over at the troop commander.

"I don't know what you're talking about." She really didn't.

"Sure you don't, _farmer_." The second glove went on and he grabbed her by the jaw. She gritted her teeth against the pain as he squeezed. "So why were you hiding?"

She hissed between painful teeth, "Got...few...convictions"

His eyebrows shot up again. "Commander?"

"We haven't got anything on her. Neither have the locals."

He moved closer to her face and frowned. "That was a poorly thought-out lie."

_Well it was all I could manage._

She said nothing.

"All right, lock her up in the local garrison and get some answers out of her."

He let go of her jaw and she shook her head angrily.

"I don't know anything!"

"We'll see."

---

"Come on kid, stop struggling."

The man had Luke by the hair and was dragging him down the cold, badly lit corridor. Luke was fighting back in pure reaction to the pain the other was causing to his hair roots. He clutched the man's hand with both his own and dug fingernails in, trying to get him to loosen the painful grip.

The man's anger erupted. He yanked Luke off the floor and Luke yelped in pain. "Stupid brat! Quit it unless you want a fist in your mouth."

The man was tall, dressed in dark padded clothing, a utility belt slung around his waist, blaster on his hip. The dark pointed beard almost covered a deep scar on the bottom of his cheek but not the snarl on his lips.

Luke subsided and the man put him back on his feet. He felt his legs begin to buckle under him but he kept standing to stop from annoying the man even more. The tight black top barely concealed strong muscles, and his jaw was firmly set in an expresion of annoyance Luke was used to seeing on his uncle's face.

Luke knew on instinct that this man was no farmer, though – he was a spacer, and a rough one too if the scars and the artillery were anything to go by. Luke walked fast to keep up with the man, still pulling on his hair. He had to grit his teeth to stop from attacking the man. He wouldn't stand a chance but this _really_ hurt.

They reached the end of a grilled walkway and the man palmed the release panel the picked Luke up under the armpits. Luke yelped in surprise and the man laughed before tossing him onto a table in the centre of a small room. Three other occupants looked up in surprise as the boy fell onto all fours onto the table, furious.

"There you go. Four-foot-nothing of teeth, claws and obstinate boy."

Luke glared back at the man, who was leaning against the jamb of the closed door, smiling at him, arms crossed. He started to shoot something back but one of the other three humans in the room grabbed his jaw and spun his head around to face hers.

She shook his head back and forth before releasing it and Luke crawled backwards away from her.

"I don't recognise it. Where'd you pick it up?"

The woman had a hard face, not at all like his aunt. Her hair was pulled back in dark, glossy braids secured into a thick bun and her face was hard-set and heavy, eyes sparkling like green ryne stones in the dark of the room.

The man behind him shrugged, "Down in the old storage house, mucking around with some of the junk down there."

Another male grabbed him by the arm, his hand completely covering the boys small bicep. He looked critically at the blood staining Luke's trousers where he had fallen in the street and the scratches and bruises on his arms. "Where've you been, boy?"

Luke tried to shake his arm out of the others in defiance but all he got was a sharp pain in his shoulder. The man leaned closer, showing the deep red tattoo on his shaved head as he bent down. "I said, where have you been?"

---

The small boy didn't even blanch under Tate's gaze, and Jenn was impressed. Tate squeezed the boy's arm until the kid's face showed the pain. Jenn placed her elbows on the table and leaned in conspiratorially, "Better tell him, kid. We've been having something of a bad day and he could use a good, stubborn punch bag."

The boy fixed her with a crystal blue gaze, but he did cringe a little. "I was outside." He had a very soothing voice. She looked him up and down; small frame, but wiry. Quite good looking too – would probably fetch a price.

"How did you get there?" She leaned back in the chair and played with her nails, seeming as uninterested as possible. Saffa glanced at her in interest.

"What do you mean?"

She sighed wearily and pushed strands of blonde hair away, "I mean, how did you get _out_."

The boy shook his head, not understanding. "I...I...was running from the...ermm..."

"Go on." Tate squeezed harder and boy turned on him,

"Lay off! I'm telling you what I know, but I don't understand your question!" Tate was spitted by an intense glare and he loosed his grip a little.

Jenn was impressed. "Keep going kid."

"I was running. I hid down there. Then _he_ turns up and drags me here." The boy shook bangs of blond hair from his eyes. "That's all I know." He added as Tate glared at him.

"Leave it, he's not one of ours."

"You so sure, Jenn?" Saffa looked severe in that dark bun.

"Yeah, accent's wrong. He's not from Mos Espa. And his clothes: they're new. None of the street kids we picked up were that well dressed."

The boy's eyes narrowed and he turned towards her before a hand clamped across his mouth. Interrogation over, the boy had to shut up.

"_And_ he hasn't got the discipline of the others." Marr scowled at the little kid trying to wriggle free of his hand. "Little runt sure fights back."

Jenn nodded. "You're sure he was alone?"

"Yeah, no one's been down there in ages either."

"Well, stick him with the others on the transport then."

Tate sat back from the table. "We're gonna sell him too?"

"Why not?" she countered. "Can't let him go, and he might fetch some more credits in." Her eyes glinted. "And we all know how much you love credits."

He grinned. "All right, we got a new slave."

The boy squirmed furiously against Marr as he realised what they were discussing. "Stop fighting kid. You – Ow! The little runt _bit_ me!" Marr backhand the boy to fall off the table and onto the floor.

Jenn smirked, "Quite a fiery little one, huh? He'll sell well."

---

Owen was worried. He leaned back against the sandstone wall surroundng the old slave quarters. This was probably the most unsavoury district of Mos Espa - and you really had to work to get that distinction. His brow was furrowed and he was scowling, an expression which would become familiar to him over the next few years.

Beru was in the detention centre. He'd paid a local snoop for the information and he trusted it. It troubled him – Beru could well be being interrogated. Or it could be worse; she could have been taken up to the Star Destroyer orbiting above them, and then they really would have been lost. Every so often, the white dagger could be seen in the sky above them, and it made Owen's stomach turn. And he had no idea where Luke had vanished to.

"Owen."

He looked up at the voice to see the Jedi Master walking towards him. His lightsaber glinted on his belt and the sun reflected in his eyes. The long cloak swept the sand on the street. "Any news?"

Obi-Wan Kenobi had a quiet strength about him that Owen envied in times like this. He hardly ever let his concern show. The face of the younger man Owen had known was still visible under greying beard, and the frown was the same as ever.

"Beru is in the garrison, detention level. I don't know where Luke is."

Obi-Wan nodded., "We should get Beru out first. If they question her-"

"Beru would never tell them anything," Owen said angrily.

"Not knowingly."

Owen tempered himself. He needed this man's help. "All right. What do we do?"

Obi-Wan leaned against the wall, the sunset throwing warm shades over his skin. "We have to be discreet. We don't want Vader's attention."

"What then?"

"I'll go in and get her out." Obi-Wan turned his face to the sunset, expression troubled.

"How? Mind tricks? I thought you said Vader would sense anything like that."

Obi-Wan nodded. "Only if I have too. He shouldn't notice a few simple manipulations."

"But you're not sure."

Obi-Wan just shrugged. Owen sighed. "All right."

"Owen Lars, are you _agreeing_ with me?" There was a hint of laughter on the Jedi's lips and a smile flickering across his face.

"Kenobi, you-" He stopped, and glared. "You are _so_ infuriating sometimes!"

The smile cracked into a full grin. "Go look for any sign of Luke, although I get the feeling you will not find him. I'll bring Beru back. Where are you staying?" Owen glowered but gave him the address. "Good, I'll take her there. Stay inconspicuous. "

Owen laughed, "Inconspicuous? Says the man with an ancient, instantly recognisable weapon on his belt."

Obi-Wan looked down at the saber. "Hmmm..." He unclipped it stuck it in a pocket. "Good point."

**Chapter Two**

Obi-Wan unclipped the robe from around his throat and whirled it off, stashing it behind a wall of storage lockers outside the detention block. He felt the old thrill of action come back to him after so many years, and was a little disturbed byhow good it felt. He was so tempted to let the Force wash over him; he was parched for it. But he couldn't, Vader was a bare few kilometres above them, aboard the Star Destroyer, and the last thing Obi-Wan wanted was for his wayward apprentice to come charging down here. He had to protect Luke.

Eight years in hermitage to protect the boy. Ever the silent, invisible guardian, looking over the child as he grew. Obi-Wan had only caught glimpses of him until this debacle had reared its ugly head. He was relieved that the child was not quite the double to his father. Where Anakin's eyes had been filled with lust for freedom at around Luke's age, Luke's were filled only with kindness and compassion, and it had heartened the Jedi Master to see it in the boy at the Lar's homestead. Physically, they were so similar. Mentally...

Obi-Wan crept to the detention block. It was a neglected building, dilapidated - shouldn't be too hard for a Jedi Master to break into. Even a Jedi Master who couldn't use the Force.

He didn't have any weapons on him. That could be a problem. The old-style Jedi clothing did hold a utility belt around his waist, though. He went to the back of the building and looked up at the rough sides. He wanted to reach out to Beru, but knew he couldn't. He'd have to get in and do it the old-fashioned way.

Mos Espa brought back a lot of painful memories for him, memories he had to push to the background now to get Beru out.

His hand grasped the heavy, cracked stonework and he pulled himself up to the first window there. He looked around to make sure no one was around, snatched the saber from a pocket and quickly cut the durasteel bars. A lightsaber cut would look suspicious, but that could easily have been from a welder's laser cutter. The bars fell with a silent thud to the sandy ground and Obi-Wan pocketed the saber again. Even in the dusk, he could see that there was no one around to notice his break-in. That was pretty lax.

He pulled himself through the window and landed on the permacrete floor silently, crouched, ready for attack.

Nothing. There was no one around, only an empty cell, door open and unlocked.

He stood, straightened the tunic around him and walked silently to the door.

Obi-Wan didn't like this forced separation from the Force, but he knew that a Jedi didn't stop being a Jedi even when they were without that connection. Being a Jedi was as much about a discipline of mind, and competence in combat, as it was about midichlorian count. Probably more so, in fact.

Owen had never let him do a midichlorian count on Luke. That was probably a good thing. He crept into a silent corridor. There were no guards, no one to stop him. Either they were _really_ negligent or something else had called them away.

He crept through the hot building, no air conditioning in the prisoner levels. No point keeping them comfortable. He looked through the transparisteel slats on each door, looking for his friend.

Not that Owen would ever approve of a friendship with Obi-Wan. He blamed him almost entirely for Anakin's fall. Obi-Wan tried no to think about that now. After eight years of meditation, he still didn't know who to blame.

Next floor, same story – no guards. He found the cell mid-way down; Beru sat on the steel pallet, head in her hands. She looked tired and frustrated, but she didn't look like she'd been interrogated yet. _Good_.

He took the encrypt card from a pouch and slid it over the door lock. A quiet beep and it slid away into the wall. Beru looked up fearfully, then her eyes widened in shock as she recognised Kenobi.

She stood suddenly. "What?"

"Shhsh, there doesn't seem to be any guards at the moment, but we have to move quickly," he said.

She nodded and moved next to him. "They've got some major operation going on here, Obi-Wan."

He frowned at her in the dusk lighting filtering through from the barred window. "What do you mean?"

She took her hand in his own and leaned in, "I've been thinking about the stuff they were asking me when they grabbed me. I think they think there's some sort of underground slavery racket going on here. They thought I was a part of it."

Obi-Wan stared at her a moment then swore lightly. "_That's_ why Vader is here!"

Beru nodded eagerly. "It's nothing to do with us – he never could stand slavery. He came along to help quash it."

Obi-Wan looked down at her kindly, resisting the urge to tell her it was _Anakin_ who had been the slave, not Vader. But under the circumstances, it didn't seem to matter. Anakin's hatred of slavery had obviously been passed on to Vader.

"Have they asked you any questions yet?"

She shook her head, "Yes, but when it was obvious I didn't know anything, they left me alone. Don't worry, I never mentioned Luke," she added, knowing the real reason Obi-Wan was asking. "Have you got him?"

"No, Beru. Not yet, anyway."

Her face fell, then she nodded. "You had to get me first, in case they tried drugs."

"Yes." He spared the time to embrace her briefly. "Come on, we have to get out of here."

---

Luke was annoyed, frustrated, confused and in pain. They had stuck restraints around his arms after Luke's last attempt to claw his way free. They were just a strip of plastic, ridged so they would tighten around his wrists in one direction and not the other, the kind of thing used for securing packaging. Pretty simple, and pretty effective as cuffs, too.

The dark-clad spacer – Marr – shoved him in front of him, grumbling at the boy. Luke wasn't going quietly. He had shouted and screamed at them until they had slapped a piece of duct tape over his mouth. Now he fumed in silence, furious at himself for allowing them to do this to him, wondering if his aunt and uncle had idea what had happened to him.

_Those troopers probably got them_, _anyway_.

They walked into a docking bay, and Luke gaped at the large transport sat on the permacrete, dirty and poorly kept. He struggled futilely against the restraints and earned himself another shove in the back.

"Stow it, kid."

He stumbled forwards up the ramp, Marr following him and ducking his head as he entered the brightly lit corridor. A hand on Luke's shoulder guided him to the right and he winced where the man touched a tender bruise, the result of being shoved onto the floor after he had bit the wretched spacer. _Slaver_.

Luke felt panic boil up inside himself at the thought. He had to escape!

They reached a door and Marr palmed it open. Before Luke knew what hit him, he was flying down a small flight of steps to land on the deck of the ship's hold. He squirmed around onto his back and glowered up at Marr, screaming through the gag exactly what he thought of the slaver. He got his legs under his and rushed him, barrelling into his legs with a grunt of pain. The slaver was a solid block muscle and he hauled Luke off his feet, snarling.

"_Don't_ ask me why we're even _bothering_ to try to sell a runt like you. I'd just as soon space you, and you give me one more reason and Jenn can go hang - I'll take great pleasure in ripping those claws from your hand, one by one."

Luke squirmed in fear and Marr threw him back down. He landed on his face and couldn't use his restrained hands to get back to his knees as the door shut behind him and locked. He swore with some of Uncle Owen's more vicious phrases, though he had no idea what they meant - he just knew hey made him feel a little better. He rolled onto his side.

Two dozen scared eyes blinked back at him. Luke looked around him for the first time and saw a bunch of terrified, subdued kids sat huddled on the deck with him.

They were pretty much his age and none of them said a word as he stared at them. They were absolutely petrified, but none were tied up like Luke. He blinked back at his fellow captives, then called out for someone to get the gag off him. His hands were behind his back, making it impossible for him to do it himself.

Nobody moved.

"Come on! Wake up!" Luke shouted, but it was incomprehensible. They just looked more scared and Luke lay back on the cold deck, cursing _them_ now.

He sucked in air through his nose, and the thought occurred to him that maybe they had been shown reason to be so subdued. The thought filled him with a cold dread that made his skin crawl.


	4. Relocate

**Disclaimer** – Lucas owns the characters in this story. He's hidden them away somewhere dark and dusty whilst he's got his mind on episode2, so I snuck in and broke them out for a quick jaunt in the sunshine. I wish I was making money from them, but unfortunately it's all in the name of 'fun'.

**Setting** – Eight years post Episode Three.

_Note: this is an old, old story which isn't the finest piece I've ever written! I'm only leaving it here for posterity. It was written before the release of AOTC - hence Owen and Beru's background is somewhat different to the canon explanation for their relationship to Luke. _

**ANAKIN AGAIN?**

**Episode Four - Relocate**

**Chapter One**

"Anything?"

"No."

Beru hugged her husband in the small room, he was still wearing that frown of his. Ignoring Obi-Wan standing in the corner of the room, he kissed her fiercely on the lips. This felt like old times, running around toting blasters. She'd been a 'mother' so long she'd forgotten what adventure felt like. She'd been right to loathe it.

"Beru, where were you when you lost sight of Luke?" Obi-Wan asked. He had retrieved his long robe – _"Haven't been without it in years... can't leave it."_ – and snuck it over his shoulders, shrouding himself again, hiding the Jedi that had rescued her behind the visage of an old man.

"Down in the market," she said. She pulled the plaits loose from her head, they were dishevelled anyway, and strapped a spare utility belt to her waist. "Blasters?" she asked.

Obi-Wan shook his head. "Sorry."

She shrugged.

Owen stirred. "Beru, have you got _any_ idea where he might have gone?"

"No, I - Kenobi, can't you, you know, do your Force thing?"

He chuckled lightly at the wording, then his expression grew serious and sad. "Vader is in orbit. I can't risk it."

"Oh..."

Nobody said a word for a long time.

"You care deeply for the boy?"

Beru's eyes came up in surprise and she looked at the Jedi. "I...yes I do. It wasn't meant to happen that way."

"You think not?" Again, the arms buried deep in the long sleeves. Beru knew that meant he was in his 'teaching' mode. She wasn't going to let him get too far into that.

"Kenobi, you threw that poor boy into our arms whilst his mother was still warm, and you're going to try lecturing me on _love!_"

She hadn't meant to be so harsh; he flinched and bowed his head. "It was necessary."

"I know, but that doesn't mean I have to like it." She pointed a finger at him as she strapped a comlink to the belt. "Our instructions were to hide him, bury him. He doesn't exist. Make him a farmer, a nobody. No one said _anything_ about how damned endearing he would be."

"He had to be hidden, and quickly," Obi-Wan protested.

"I suppose _that's_ why his sister is living it up in one of the galaxies finest palaces, huh? When you stuck him here to be a pauper and a nobody?"

"I-"

"Yeah, I seem to remember hearing the 'plain sight' argument before and look where we are now?" She was ranting and she knew it, pent-up frustration making itself known. Obi-Wan stepped further into the light. She cut him off again, suddenly the mild, meek farmer Beru returning to the woman she'd been over a decade ago. "Point is, Kenobi, that child has done _nothing_ wrong other than being born into the wrong blood line. And people are still trying to punish him for it. What doesn't he deserve love? Well, guess what? I _love_ the boy, and Owen does too, if he'd ever admit it. It was impossible _not_ to, and you know it."

She glared and moved closer, fixing him with an angry look, then turned on her husband before he could deny it. Strangely, he wasn't even attempting to. "You give him chore after chore, punish him time after time for doing things he doesn't even _realise_ he's doing! He doesn't stand a chance, and he doesn't even know _why_."

"What kind of 'things'?" Obi-Wan asked quietly, but he was being completely ignored.

"You coddle the boy, Beru. What would you do? _Tell _him?"

She planted fists on her hips. "No. Treat him like the child he is. He needs love, and comfort, and everything else _you_ needed when you were eight. You treat him like he's a primed thermodetonator that could go off any time."

"Well, he could!"

"He's just a _child_, Owen."

"Beru is right." Both Lars turned to Kenobi, Beru gaping. "Our own paranoia has brought us here. We we're so scared when that Destroyer hit orbit, we jumped to conclusions that didn't really have any basis, and it's only got us into a deeper mess."

He stepped forward and took Beru's hands, removing them from where they were firmly fixed to her hips, "I never told you not to love the boy. I couldn't expect that, and I would never _want_ that. He deserves better, and, I think from what little I've seen of him," he threw a pointed look at Owen, "that you've done a good job. He's a good boy, and that's all. Just a child. And right now, he needs our help."

He looked down at his booted feet. "As for sending Leia to Alderaan... she doesn't have his potential, and she is female – you can already see Anakin in the boy's frame." He caught a look of despair on Owen's face and turned to him. "No, Owen - I meant only his physical form. The boy has his own mind, his is no reincarnation." He turned back to Beru. "Whatever you're doing, don't stop doing it. You make a wonderful mother, Beru. I always knew you would."

"Do you believe in nature or nurture, Obi-Wan?" she asked, eyes sparkling with unshed tears.

He looked deep into them before answering and she appreciated his contemplation. "I don't know. The Force guides us to a destiny, but it is the _person_ who must take those steps, and that depends on both. We cannot change Luke's genes, but as for his nurture... I think he's pretty well prepared." He smiled kindly and her eyes smiled back.

Her mouth did not; it formed a small frown. "But not if we don't get him back."

---

Luke struggled weakly against the bonds. It didn't help, but he wouldn't let himself give in. Not like the other kids in here. They still hadn't said a word, hadn't moved either. They just sat there, terrified. They didn't even take comfort in each other, completely aloof with one another. Luke was almost angry with them for being so _weak_. But he wasn't – he knew there had to be a reason for it, and it scared him a lot.

So, this was adventure? He'd gotten what he so dreamed for – excitement, peril, spaceships and blasters. Well, he didn't like it - not at all. It was all pain and confusion and fear. He rested a sore cheek against the cold deck of the ship, feeling utterly helpless. It wasn't a feeling he relished. He wanted the restraints off, he wanted lighting and most of all he wanted off this ship of slavers.

_Slavers._

He knew slavery had been outlawed on Tatooine about the same time as podracing had. His mind went back to the small, sleek podracer holed up in the dust and dark of that shed. He'd been so preoccupied by it he'd never even noticed that spacer creep up behind him. He ground his teeth beneath the make-shift gag. Not like he would have been able to fight him anyway, but he would have felt a little better knowing he hadn't been such an idiot.

The cold deck began to vibrate against his cheek in a fast, rhythmic motion that made his ears itch.

_The engine._

Well, he'd gotten what he wanted. Looked like he was going for a ride on a space ship.

He bit back tears of desperation as the ship lurched upwards on her repulsorlifts. The children never said a word. Luke lifted his head off the deck to stop the annoying buzz in his ears and tried to sit upright. This was _not_ good. He had a really bad feeling about it.

---

"There."

Beru turned at Obi-Wan's voice to stare in the direction he was pointing. "That's just an old storage shed." She strode over, a frown on her brow. Owen followed and they saw that, more specifically, Obi-Wan was pointing to a broken air bracket. The ground around it was scuffed and the Tatooine wind hadn't yet settled it back down.

Obi-Wan squatted and gingerly lifted the panel. It came away easily from it's frame. "Yes. Luke hid in there."

"He's not there anymore though." Owen said. He leaned back against the wall, trying to look as inconspicuous as he could with his two companions crouched down in a busy street, studying an air bracket.

"No..." Obi-Wan stood and looked up and down the street, then up at the building.

"Well we can't go in the way he did, unless that Force of yours comes with some magic shrinking tricks. Let's find the street running parallel to this one and go in that way." Owen pushed off from the wall.

The Jedi ignored his snide comment. "Agreed," he said.

Around the other side there was a small entranceway to the same building, and Owen forced it open with his shoulder. "I really wish we had some blasters..." he murmured as they walked into the darkness. But the building was deserted, and had been for a while by the look of it. The door opened onto a small storage room, thick with dust and grime, with spaces for large pieces of equipment which had either been pilfered or hurriedly removed.

Obi-Wan walked to a door on the other side and opened it slowly, listening.

"This way." He walked through and climbed a small flight of steps up to the next level of the building. A heavy drape, also dust ridden, and they made it into a large, double level workhouse. Beru stepped out in front of him, hair afire with the dusty light.

"He's not here," she said sadly.

"No, but he was." Obi-Wan had moved across the room to where small footsteps emerged from a similar entranceway up from another storage room. He looked at them as husband and wife approached, and followed their path, cloak sweeping the floor.

To the ladder, the upper platform and-

His breath caught in his throat but he heard a gasp escape him. Beru looked up at him in shock. "What?" Concern evident.

"Oh, sweet stars... it _can't_ be!"

Suddenly he was an apprentice again, his Master fiercely defending his choice to allow Anakin to race to buy their ship parts.

"What!"

To race in _that_ podracer.

His feet compelled him across the floor and to climb up the ladder. He reached the racer's side, trying to suppress the memories.

"Anakin's podracer." The words barely made it out his mouth, he was so disbelieving.

The shroud had been pulled from it and lay on the floor, and next to it...Obi-Wan picked up Luke's discarded top.

"In all of Mos Espa, on all of Tatooine, Luke chose _this_ storage house to hide in," he said, amazed and shocked. His hand reached for the podracer's hull and touching it sent a jolt of electric through his arm as the image of the cocky nine-year-old Anakin came to his mind unbidden.

"Anakin's?" A small voice said beside him. Beru had climbed up to look at the racer. Owen stayed on the lower deck, pale as death.

Obi-Wan tore his eyes from the ship and it's memories to face the woman he had charged with Anakin's son's welfare. "I have no idea what it's doing here, or how Luke found it," he admitted. He leaned over to look at the small cockpit and saw the lights on the screens. Luke had managed to get he ancient thing up and running instinctively. What had he been saying about not being a reincarnation of that wayward boy?

Regardless of the boy's disturbing discovery, he wasn't here anymore. Something must have disturbed him.

A quiet descended on the room as they stared at the ship, each lost in their own private, painful memories.

The sound of a ship's engines broke their thoughts. Owen whirled around looking for it's source, Obi-Wan's head instinctively looked to the ceiling. He walked to the large door in front of the racer and keyed it to open. Owen joined him. "Kenobi?"

The door opened onto a permacrete roof, and rising above that was an old battered transport. Instinctively, no need for the Force, Obi-Wan knew Luke was aboard. Before he could stop her Beru ran forward onto the roof. He grabbed a handful of air trying to stop her.

"Luke!"

She had realised it too, and she stared in anguish as Obi-Wan ran after her, as the ship orientated itself above the rooftops. He grabbed her to stop her from doing anything stupid, and then with a flash of the sublight drives the ship was racing over the town.

She gasped for breath and threw the Jedi's hold off her. She whirled on him, but her eyes caught the podracer in the dark. "Can you-"

"No. That Star Destroyer sees a podracer down here and we're done for. We might as well spell out 'your son is here' in dewback bones if we're going to do that."

She trembled as Owen hugged her and Obi-Wan watched the shuttle disappear into a dark speck on the horizon. _Not climbing for orbit yet..._

"We need a ship," he said.


	5. Desolation

**Disclaimer** – Lucas owns the characters in this story. He's hidden them away somewhere dark and dusty whilst he's got his mind on episode2, so I snuck in and broke them out for a quick jaunt in the sunshine. I wish I was making money from them, but unfortunately it's all in the name of 'fun'.

**Setting** – Eight years post Episode Three.

_Note: this is an old, old story which isn't the finest piece I've ever written! I'm only leaving it here for posterity. It was written before the release of AOTC - hence Owen and Beru's background is somewhat different to the canon explanation for their relationship to Luke. _

**ANAKIN AGAIN?**

**Episode Five - Desolation**

**Chapter One**

Saffa piloted whilst Tate and Jenn argued. Marr was unusually silent. She gunned the ship out beyond Mos Espa and the sprawling sand-and-mud dwellings in the slave quarters and had it over the desert before she switched over to the autopilot to get involved in the argument.

"No offence, Jenn, but if the Imperials really had found us, we'd have been as stupid as a herd of senile banthas to stick around." She pointed at the leader of the group, knowing how severe she looked with the braded bun and black clothing. "Yeah, okay - so it was just a bunch of nosy farmers, but it might _not_ have been."

Jenn flashed her a hard stare as Tate nodded agreement. "We went into that damned place to go to ground to _stop_ the Imperials from finding us. What, you don't think they'll have noticed a ship blasting out of there?"

Tate shook his head and received the brunt of Jenn's anger in the gut. Marr spoke up. "There was no way for him to know, Jenn. The front alarm went off, sensors showed a bunch of people in there. He made a decision. It was the wrong one." He shrugged. "It happens, and we couldn't have stayed much longer anyway. The Imperials are getting closer."

She glared, but it lacked some of the menace from a few minutes back. "Fine, just get us on the other side of the planet from the Destroyer before you make orbit."

Saffa felt a frown on her features as she turned back to the controls. "We're jumping? Our market's here."

Jenn let out a sigh. "Yeah, well, like you said, the Imps will be tracking us."

"Got you. Jump out, jump back in with a different transponder signal. Should convince them."

"It _should_," she agreed before sweeping out the cockpit. Marr gave Saffa a weary look and followed her.

"Jenn!" She continued to storm down the corridors, shoulders set straight with anger. "Jenn!"

"What is it, Marr?" She whirled around on him, hands on slender, black-clad hips, blonde hair falling as angrily around her shoulders as her expression fell on him. "You going to give me a lecture?"

"No."

She seemed taken aback by that and faltered, then regained her steely composure. "What is it then?" Light flashed in her brown eyes.

"Just wondering what you wanted to do about that kid we picked up." He shrugged disarmingly.

"What do you mean? Sell him, like the rest." She seemed annoyed.

"He's pretty stubborn, Jenn."

"Get Tate to break him then. Give him something to do other than calling false alarms." White teeth bared against full red lips.

"Jenn, much as I'd _love_ to let Tate go with his favourite past time, I don't think we've got the time for that. He's more trouble than he's worth. Can't we just throw him out an airlock?"

She rolled her eyes to the ceiling. Marr didn't understand credits. "No, he's worth something, no matter how little. Get Tate to throw him around a little, threaten him. If that doesn't work, shoot him full of sedatives before we give them over to subdue him."

She started to walk away but Marr locked a hand around her arm and pulled her back. She looked pretty angry at that and he ignored the dangerous flashing in her eyes. "They won't like that, when he snaps out of it."

"Not my problem."

"It'll damage your relationship."

She laughed. It was a cruel laugh and had no humour in it. "After this debacle, there's no way I'm shipping slaves on Tatooine again anyway. Get Tate to break him. He's got a day at least. I'm sure the kid'll listen if you spell out the facts. He can't be _that_ stubborn."

---

Beru was crying. It had finally come down on her and Obi-Wan had never been that great at offering comfort. Owen had stepped in and was offering her a shoulder to sob against. Obi-Wan didn't think Beru had realised up until now just how deeply she felt for the boy. _She truly has been a mother to him_. Padmé would have smiled to see it.

Her crying seemed to subside a little, and then she began apologising profusely. "I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me."

"It's okay, B. You care for Luke. You love him. So do I."

Beru looked up at her husband in surprise. Her tear-streaked gaze fell on her husband's and she smiled. "I've been waiting years to hear you admit that," she murmured against his shirt, resting her head there.

"Now what do we do?" Owen looked up at Obi-Wan. The man was trying not to show weakness despite his fears. Obi-Wan admired the strength that took.

"We need to know where that ship went."

"How?"

Obi-Wan sat on the bed, thinking. There was really only one possibility. "I think we need some Imperial help. They're the only ones who will have tracked their outbound vector."

Beru stiffened. "Not Vader!"

"No!" Obi-Wan said, coming to his feet reflexively. "Never. I meant the garrison here. We can tap into the network there." Beru visibly relaxed, sagging against her husband's arms. "It'll take some time... and we don't have a ship to follow in."

Owen nodded. Outside the window behind him, Mos Espa buzzed even in the middle of the night. "First we find out where we need to go before we buy transport anywhere."

"Right. I'll get on it." Obi-Wan crossed his arms and set his jaw in determination. Or stubbornness. "You two stay here and get some sleep."

Beru shook her head. "No. There's got to be something we can do..."

"There isn't, Beru. And you're going to be no use tomorrow if you're dead on you're feet." She opened her mouth to deny it but after a pause she just nodded and sank her head back down again.

"You need sleep too, old man," Owen said.

"Who are you calling old, Lars?"

"You, now go get some sleep. Luke's room is next door. Kind of small but..."

Obi-Wan pursed his lips and nodded. "See you at sunrise."

---

He wanted sunshine. He wanted sweltering heat and sand and rocks and heat waves rising over the desert. He wanted twin suns in the sky and a long horizon broken only by their 'vaporators.

He wanted his cool room and his aunt's home cooking. He wanted his aunt's kind smile. He even wanted his uncle to shout at him and tell him off for his stupidity.

All he had was sore eyes, a cold deck under his cheek and sharp pains in his wrists.

Luke was just a kid, just a eight-year-old who had a penchant for trouble. And he'd really done it this time.

The ship lurched and, clinically, he knew they had gone into hyperspace. And he couldn't even see what it looked like.

The sigh of the door opening, a bright light in his eyes and a pair of boots in front of him and he realised someone had come into the hold. He squirmed over onto his back and stared up into the eyes of that bald spacer, glowering down on him.

"Up."

If he could have stood up from this position he would have done so ages ago. With the gag, he couldn't tell the man so. He shook his head.

A snarl came to the man's lips – Tate, they had called him – and he grabbed a handful of blonde hair and dragged the boy to his feet. He ripped the duct tape off his mouth, making Luke's lips zing. "When I say get up, you obey, slave."

Luke spat back at him, "I'm a person and my name is Luke!"

The others cringed around him. Tate let him go and he sat heavily back on the deck, legs crossing under him. The burly man took a step backwards. "Oh, really? You think you got a name?"

Luke looked around uncertainly. Big, scared eyes looked back at him. "Yeah." 

More cringing. The hairs stood up on the back of his neck and he braced himself as the familiar warning tingle worked its way down his spine.

He wasn't disappointed. Tate yanked him back to his feet and sent him flying into the far wall. Luke yelped in pain as he collapsed to the deck. The man stalked him.

"A _name_?" He grabbed Luke by the thin vest he was wearing, put a hand around his neck, and pushed him against the cold wall. Blood trickled from his nose and Luke blinked back stars. "The most you'll _ever_ have again is a number, burned onto your arm so you'll never forget it."

He slammed the small boy harder and the blood ran down his hand. Luke yelped again and gritted his teeth. He didn't think the man had broken anything. Yet.

"You are _nobody_. Merchandise. A few credits to add to my account." He leaned right into Luke's face and the boy's eyes bulged. "You have no name. Understand?"

Luke gritted his teeth.

Tate threw him to the deck. "_Understand_?"

"I'm a person and my name is-"

A swift kick to the temple and the kid was unconscious, never getting the word out.

---

"I think I was a little rough."

Saffa raised her eyebrows. "I thought that was idea."

Tate shifted uncomfortably and moved to the 'fresher station, washing the crimson blood from his hand. "I mean unconscious-rough."

"Oh."

He dried his hands and turned to her. "You think I like beating the sith out of those brats, don't you?"

She sat back in the lounge seat and brushed a nail file over immaculate black talons. "I don't know. Marr thinks so. Do you?"

He sat down in the opposite chair and put his legs up on a small transparisteel table. He let out a sigh that was half annoyance, half frustration. He brushed a hand over the red tattoo on his bald scalp. _Says he shaved it 'cause it makes him look harder. Bet he just found a bald spot one day. _"No. Even I'm not that cold, Saff." 

"Don't call me that."

"Sorry."

"It's just... gotta be done, you know? For the credits." He was staring at the ceiling.

"That little blonde one's really gotten to you, eh?" She sat up, put the nail file aside and leaned forward. " 'Course I understand. I'm not here for the scenery you know."

"Yeah..."

"Look, Tate. Stash your feelings, okay? If Jenn sees it she'll go crazy, and she's already on the war path for Marr's ugly mug after that mess in Mos Espa."

Tate lowered his gaze to her and folded his arms across his chest. "Yeah, true. That kid's going to be trouble though. Stubborn little sithspawn."

She shrugged. "You ain't gotta break the little runt, just get him to stop hitting out every chance he gets. Keep going, you'll get there."

"If you're so great with kids, why don't _you_ have a go?" he dared. her

She laughed. "Me? I can't stand the little mynocks. I'd space 'em without batting an eyelid."

He glanced at her and smirked, seeing straight through that hard mask. "Sure you would, Jenn. Sure you would."

---

"I see they haven't improved the security on these networks since the last time I was on it." Obi-Wan was typing furiously at the console, Beru toting the blaster she had 'borrowed' from an unconscious guard.

"Thank the Force for small favours."

Obi-Wan glanced over at the petite woman, still quite beautiful in her own homely way despite the worry lines. He raised his eyebrows at that remark but she waved him back to the console.

"Just get the information. This place gives me the creeps."

"Imperial architecture does leave a lot to be desired." He concentrated on hacking into the networks. Beru paced the room, peering out into the empty corridor, walking to the window, checking the stun setting on the blaster. Obi-Wan ignored her. More than a day after the ship had left Tatooine with a cargo more precious than its crew could possibly imagine, they had finally got the chance to break in here and pull what they needed from Imperial records.

"Aha, got you!" He grinned, realising the expression was very un-Jedi like and stowing it.

Beru leaned over his shoulder. "What is it?"

"There we go. The transponder on that ship – jump co-ordinates–"

"Where does it lead?"

"Hang on." Beru did, she clutched the edge of the desk. He frowned. "That's odd."

"What's odd?"

Obi-Wan pointed to the screen. "The speed and the vector – it leads to the middle of nowhere."

Beru frowned. "Disguising their destination." Her heart was crashing down through her stomach and heading for the floor. She felt her legs wobble, trying to get her whole body to follow it down.

"Maybe."

"Or?" 

"I don't know...a hunch..."

He started typing again and Beru got control of herself again. She hated those weak moments, she knew they were born out of admirable emotions – love, concern, care – but they made her feel so vulnerable and she hated it. There had been times when such a weakness was almost fatal.

"Clever." Obi-Wan's voice brought her back to the present.

"What is?" Her voice barely trembled.

"The ship jumped into nowhere because she was _going_ nowhere. See, another ship just jumped back, different transponder but its identical in class and size."

"They've come back?" Beru stood up and looked down shocked at the Jedi. "Why would they come back?"

The man stood and flicked off the terminal, burning the ships identity into his memory, and their trajectory with it. "I guess their business was always on Tatooine, we just spooked them enough to get them to disappear." He rose and the cloak swamped him again. "Let's get out of here, and keep the blaster. You're probably going to need it."

**Chapter Two**

Luke shook his head woozily away from the pungent smell under his nose. "Always fighting. What is it with this kid?" The voice sounded distant in his ears as the chemical worked its way through to his system and brought him back to consciousness. Luke opened tired eyes and tried to back hurriedly away from the blazing green eyes in front of him.

"Okay, he's awake. Line him up with the others. If he starts getting difficult, shoot him full of chlorpromazine. That should shut him up."

The voice was cold and hard, and Luke was pulled roughly to his feet. His hands still hung loosely at his sides as he was half-walked, half-dragged to a line of grubby children standing naked under a grill. Luke looked up groggily and wavered on unsteady feet when they stood him in the middle of the line. He realised with a fuzzy embarrassment that he was similarly undressed. Then there were the soothing waves of the sonic shower unit, brushing the grit and dirt from them and massaging tired muscles. Luke felt he could collapse to the deck and sleep under the comforting energy rippling through him.

All too soon it stopped and a pile of tan and black coloured clothes was thrown to each child as Tate walked down the line of subdued children. He lingered in front of Luke and caught boys eye with a warning glance. The clothes rebounded off Luke's chest and he half caught them, thankful for the ability to cover himself up again. A tight black tunic and trousers and a loose over-tunic. Typical Tatooine, if a little darker than usual. He dressed clumsily, still feeling vaguely detached from the whole situation. The other crewmembers moved like shadows in front of him and he tried to focus his thoughts as he pulled tan boots on and bound them with black strips of homespun.

A shouted order and the children began to move sluggishly forwards, Luke following quietly.

He put his tongue up to the fleshy inside of his cheek and felt a cut there and the tang of a small gash where he had bitten through the flesh during Tate's attempts to get him to see reason. The taste helped him to come back to the present and he realised he was giving in.

_Are you a Skywalker or not?_

His hands balled into fists. He couldn't make a run for it, not yet. Not with all four crewmembers watching the children file out, mentally counting the credits on each.

Bright sunlight and sweltering heat and Luke blinked, recoiled and looked away. The child behind him bumped into him and pushed him forward and Luke staggered down the landing ramp to a sandy surface, his eyes not yet used to the bright sunshine.

They stumbled out and lined up, like droids from jawas. Luke forced his eyes to open and stared at the welcoming committee, a group of surly looking men and aliens, and a large, bulbous hutt on a floating platform.

Luke wasn't as scared as he'd thought he'd be. He was drawing on an inner strength he couldn't describe, and, stupidly or not, he thought that as long as he kept with it and kept his sanity, he could make it through yet.

He touched the tip of his tongue to the gash in his cheek again and his senses stepped up another level, hope swelling in him.

He looked down to the ground out of the glare of the sun.

His hands weren't tied.

The realisation was a bit of a shock. His hands were free. That gave him a much better chance at escape. He smiled.

---

Jenn stepped up to the bulbous mass of fat and stench, resisting the urge to wrinkle her nose in disgust. Saffa was by her side, looking as brutal as ever with her pinched features and black braids. Jenn hefted the blaster carbine at her waist as she stepped forward to the hutt on repulsor platform.

"The Great Garna the Hutt, son of Gardula, welcomes you," a protocol droid spoke from beside his obese master.

Jenn bowed beautifully, but not too low. "We are pleased to make your acquaintance, Garna." She gestured with her blaster to the row of small slave children lined against the transport's dusty sides. "I hope you find the merchandise to your satisfaction."

The hutt rolled his tongue around his mouth and eyed the children, drool pooling on the sandy floor. Jenn didn't have compassion enough to feel sorry for them, although she did feel disgust on their behalf.

The giant slug rumbled in his native language and the droid tipped his head, then translated. "The Great Garna wishes to know why one of the slaves is smiling."

_What?_

She turned around, Saffa with her, and immediately spotted the striking blond-haired boy from Mos Espa, eyes defiant, smiling.

_That damned little sithspawn! He was going to be the end of her!_

She nodded to Tate and the man stepped forward and smacked a gloved hand across the child's cheek, dazing him. He sat on the floor shaking stars from his eyes as the burly man whispered harsh words in his ear. A glare in Jenn's direction and the boy stood, returning to his position, face impassive.

"My apologies, Garna. He is a little feisty," she admitted.

She dreaded some retaliation by the hutt but instead he rumbled gruffly. The droid translated. "The Great Garna thinks perhaps he can find some particularly fitting uses for the boy."

Jenn felt a shiver crawl up her spine and Saffa's lip twitched. "I'm sure. Shall we discuss the price?"

The hutt's eyes narrowed. He hated paying. He would have gone to any length to get out of it, but Jenn wasn't stupid, the kids were well guarded by the two remaining crew members - ready to fry them if Garna made a wrong move.

"Of course," he purred, the droid still translating.

A wind picked up her blonde hair as she nodded. "All right. These kids have cost me a lot of trouble, Garna. Fifty thousand."

The hutt rumbled with laughter and his small hands rocked with his huge stomach. "The Great Garna says you mock him with such a price for so small an offering. Twenty-five."

Saffa laughed in disgust. "Forty."

"Thirty-five and no more. Especially if he is taking the surly blond runt."

Jenn grimaced. "Thirty-eight and I'll take the boy with me."

The hutt cocked his head on one side. "The Great Garna suggests that the youth is growing on him. He will give you thirty-six, including the boy."

Jenn nodded. "Very well, we accept. Cash, Garna." She brandished the blaster again. The hutt scowled at her.

"It will be delivered to your ship before the suns set. The Great Garna offers his hospitality until then."

_And give his men chance to crawl all over my ship? I don't think so._

"Thank you, Garna, but we will wait here."

The deal concluded, she returned to the ships side, flicking a switch on the blasters side, dialling down the power to a low stun setting. Tate approached her but she waved him away.

She headed instead for the small blond-haired annoyance as Garna's troop departed. He glared openly at her.

She raised the blaster. "You little sithspawn," she spat, and fired.


	6. Deserved

**Disclaimer** – Lucas owns the characters in this story. He's hidden them away somewhere dark and dusty whilst he's got his mind on episode2, so I snuck in and broke them out for a quick jaunt in the sunshine. I wish I was making money from them, but unfortunately it's all in the name of 'fun'.

**Setting** – Eight years post Episode Three.

_Note: this is an old, old story which isn't the finest piece I've ever written! I'm only leaving it here for posterity. It was written before the release of AOTC - hence Owen and Beru's background is somewhat different to the canon explanation for their relationship to Luke. _

**ANAKIN AGAIN?**

**Epsode Six - Deserved**

**Chapter One**

"Welcome to Greenhome. You are now the property of the Great Garna the Hutt. Stand in line to receive your number."

Luke shook his head to try and clear the fog. _Ouch!_ His muscles zinged with the after effects of the stun blast, twitching uncomfortably. Could things get much worse?

He opened his eyes, barely daring to challenge that thought. The other children were in line with him, walking into a large, dull building. Luke looked around and stopped suddenly, the boy behind him colliding with a curse, the first sound any of them had uttered.

Luke didn't turn to apologise, he was staring at the view to his right. He had been sure they had returned to Tatooine - you knew the feel of your home planet like you knew your own reflection - but suddenly he doubted that assumption. Out beyond the edge of the cliff Garna's men had them walking along, were huge swathes of greenery. Willowing plants on plateaus cut into the sides of a great canyon. There was a huge array of pipes between each platform, an irrigation system probably. And just visible amid the high, thin leafed plants were small figures walking between them, picking them and depositing leaves in baskets as low winds made the stalks churn like waves on an ocean Luke had never seen.

_Why aren't they using harvester droids?_

_- Slaves are cheaper in the long run. Cost less to run too. Don't need to pay mechanics or buy oil baths._

He looked upwards and saw the sides of the canyon stretching out above him. This was a farm. Not a moisture farm, but an _actual_ farm. And it was nothing like he'd ever seen on Tatooine. You couldn't grow plants here – it was too dry!

Luke didn't understand what was going on, and he was too young to understand the notion of either drugs trafficking or cultivation. He _did_ understand the notion of child labour though, and knew now what he had been sold into. 

The line had moved into an atrium of the large building, Luke still gaping at the platforms of plants being harvested below them. A droid grabbed his wrist and Luke's awareness snapped back to the interior.

_The most you'll ever have is a number, burned into your arm so you'll never forget it._

He tried to snatch his skinny arm back, but the droid snapped what looked like a piece of flimsiplast around his wrist. Imprinted on it was a number. It moulded around his small hand and the droid released him. Luke pulled his right hand back and rubbed at the band, stuck to his skin. Number 1138.

_No, I'm Luke Skywalker._

The line moved further into the building and Luke didn't let the despair show.

---

The small ship was low-terrain flying, avoiding any high-mounted ground sensors. Beru was in the rear, hair tied determinedly back, sorting through a stock of hand-held and rifle blasters like she belonged with the firepower. No wonder Padmé had made friends with her. Owen was copiloting even though Kenobi didn't need him there. He wanted to feel he was doing something. It was a fair flight from Mos Espa to where that transport had disappeared from his sights. 

"She's a good ship, Kenobi." Owen said, not meeting his gaze, "Where did you get the cash?"

Obi-Wan had expected the question. Fortunately there were no lies that needed to be told here. "Yoda released the funds from the Council shortly before he disappeared. He thought I might need them some time. As usual, he was right."

Owen said nothing. The past kept on creeping up on them.

"Not got much in the way of weaponry." That was Beru.

"Hopefully, we won't need it." He flicked the small ship over another tall dune and lowered her back down again. On the scope, the Star Destroyer didn't even show, but Obi-Wan knew she was there, along with her commander. Vader's presence in his mind was like a cold hand at his throat.

Beru just grunted and sat behind her husband. "How much further?" She had changed into a trim black jumpsuit and looked nothing like her farmer alter ego, much more like the strong woman Kenobi had met a decade ago.

Owen turned to her, also redressed into something more sensible for taking on a group of armed slavers. "Nearly there, B," the man said. Kenobi had noticed the increase in the nickname from a past life. 'B' nodded.

"Here we go." Obi-Wan turned back to concentrate on the terrain as a canyon came into view at the exact spot the ship had disappeared.

Dusk had fallen and in the fading sunlight a ship rose from the canyon and climbed rapidly for space, red light glinting off her hull. It was the transport.

"Sith!" Obi-Wan swung the ship into reverse and threw power to the drives, rapidly stopping the ship and nudging her under the small cover offered by a large dune. Beru was leaning forward like she wanted to climb through the viewport.

"Follow it!" she hissed.

Obi-Wan waved her back down, and Owen placed a hand on her shoulder to lower her back to the seat. "No, they've dropped off their cargo, and that includes Luke."

"You don't _know_ that!"

"I do." There was Jedi calm in his voice, which made her throw her hands up in the air.

"Fine!" She sat back in the seat, not quite in a funk.

Owen was fiddling with the scopes. "Okay, we're out of sensor range. Creep in there slowly. Quietly."

Obi-Wan nodded and brought he drives back up, shunting power slowly and lifting the ship over the dune, gliding her forwards.

A troubled look spread over his face and Owen narrowed his eyes. "What is it?"

Obi-Wan knew how much Owen hated to acknowledge to Force, so his gaze was kindly. "I can feel Luke," he said.

"I thought you _weren't_ supposed to be using the Force, Kenobi," he growled.

"That's the point Owen. I'm not. _Luke_ is using the Force, and his presence is as bright as Corusca right now."

"What?" Owen hissed, leaned dangerously towards the Jedi. "How? He doesn't even know the Force exists!"

"Luke is strong. You can't suppress a power like that, even with ignorance. He's been through a rough time, I think it's opened him up." He braced himself for Owen's tirade but the man just sank back into his seat as if defeated, his head in his hands. He felt the world crashing in around him, and Obi-Wan placed a hand on his shoulder.

"His father's son," Owen whispered.

"Will Vader sense him too?" Beru hissed. Obi-Wan turned to her and tried to look comforting. They had worked so hard to protect their young charge from the Jedi and their damned Force, and Luke had found it anyway. It had to be maddening.

"The Destroyer is on the other side of the planet, so I don't think so. Once its orbit brings it around here though... I wouldn't like to make any guarantees."

There was an ominous silence. Owen broke out of his reverie and made the calculations. He hissed and shook his head.

"How long, Owen?"

"What margin do you think, Kenobi?"

"At least a hundred kilometres. He _is_ his father."

"An hour then, at best."

Beru slumped back in her chair, hand over her eyes. "We can't do it. It's all over."

Owen turned to her, and tried to comfort her, but he didn't feel any hope. "B, we can-"

She broke him off and sat straight-backed in the chair, leaning intently towards the Jedi pilot.

"Obi-Wan, promise me something?"

He stared intently, not needing Jedi senses to feel the tension that had descended suddenly. "What?"

She swallowed hard but kept his gaze. "If Vader comes down, if he's going to get the boy, promise me you'll kill him instead."

Owen started, Kenobi never moved. He had fully expected this. "Luke is a good child, he doesn't deserve to be manipulated by that monster," she continued. Her fists balled. "I'd rather remember him like he is – sweet, innocent, kind – than think about what Vader will twist him into." She looked down at the deck plates, "And I don't think I can do it myself."

Obi-Wan was touched, and for a moment couldn't think of the words. "You are truly are a wonderful mother to the boy. And still _will_ be. I will promise you this, Beru. And I will not shrink from this, not now or ever. If there is any chance that giving my life can keep him from Vader, I will give it gladly." He sighed deeply, "And yes, I will kill him before Vader lays his hands on him. But... only ever as the very last resort." He smiled kindly. "You're not the only person whose heart that boy has wormed his way into."

He turned away respectfully as he saw tears in her eyes and set the ship down a few metres from the canyon edge. He powered her down, but left her ready for a quick start.

A few seconds of deep breathing. "I'm sorry Beru, but we have to move."

She wiped tears from her ruddy cheeks with her sleeve and nodded, taking comfort in the heavy blaster strung over her shoulders. "Right. Owen, arm yourself." She threw a blaster to him and headed down the landing ramp, the two men following silently.

Obi-Wan secured the ship in the frigid cold of the desert air, the sand rapidly loosing its heat to the atmosphere, and shivered despite himself. He found himself gripping the lightsaber in his hand and chastised himself, replacing it to his belt.

Owen and Beru were dark figures a few metres away, moving for the canyon edge, and the Jedi Master jogged to join them.

They reached the perimeter of the great chasm and Obi-Wan waved them back as he leaned over the edge in the rapidly fading light. Not faded enough yet that he couldn't recognise the scene below him. He turned back to the husband and wife team behind him, incredulous.

"What is it?" Owen asked, stepping forward.

"Something for the Imperials burn."

**Chapter Two**

Luke followed the others into another atrium and saw backpacks being handed out. His teeth ground together as he saw the outside, now dark, enticingly close. And covered by guards.

He was just a kid, what was he doing thinking about escape? Where was he going to run to? He took the pack from the man's arms and slung it over his shoulders like the others had, wincing at the bruises on his back it pressed against.

They were filing them out for the night shift, Luke still recovering from that spacer's stun blast. He walked, head bowed, thinking furiously. Yes he was thinking about escape. Yes he was thinking about doing something stupid. He was a _Skywalker_. His father wouldn't want him to just give in and be a slave, would he?

No.

He set his jaw, head still bowed. He might be a short eight-year-old kid. But he was wiry. _And fast_.

They were outside in the cold air, moving out to the tall fields of those green plants. And there was only a single guard until they made it there.

_Run!_

Not quite sure what he was doing, only having the distinct feeling that time was rapidly running out, he forced his tortured muscles to move. And move _fast_.

The boy put everything he had into sprinting away from the crowd, as silently as possible, knowing instinctively that the bare few seconds it took for the guard to get over the shock would count. He tore for the edge of the plant lines, the soil underfoot soft and making his feet sink into it, slowing him down

_Keep running. Don't look back. Don't_ ever _look back_.

The guard was shouting, Luke heard the rustle of metal against leather as his blaster left his holster, wondering how he had managed to hear that. His footsteps boomed loud in his ears, the guards' cries of anger accented by the blaster fire that ripped up the ground where his foot had been a few seconds ago. Except Luke had dodged right, instinctively knowing when.

He wasn't thinking about that, he was just running. _Dive, roll, turn it into a climb. Full power to the engines._

Thoughts from a much happier time came to him and he felt like he was flying, dodging the spray of fire as another blaster joined the first.

Right, left, duck! He saw the edge of the terrace approaching as his lungs felt they would burst.

_Keep running! Don't look back!_

His arms were trembling in sympathy with the fatigue in his legs.

Then he was there at the edge, skidding to a stop.

What now?

He whirled back to see the two guards approaching, a human and another species he didn't recognise. Despite the danger he realised something felt very different. It was a strange feeling, like having your eyes opened for the first time, like a light had come on. He was aware of so many things he'd never known to look for before. He knew the men were panting for breath, he felt the terror of the other children as they dashed back inside. He felt a comforting warmth from the other side of the canyon.

_Jump Luke!_

Luke whirled back to the edge, his eyes searching the gloom. Was that a dark figure in the distance? He didn't know; his eyes still hurt. He knew he had to jump, though. He backed up a few steps and blaster fire shot towards him and over his shoulder. The guards looked surprised, especially the human when a red beam spitted him through the shoulder.

Luke didn't waste time, didn't know who was firing back. He skidded backwards in the dirt, then propelled himself forward.

His foot hit the edge of the chiselled platform and he pushed hard, crying out in his mind.

Why did he feel like someone heard him?

Then he was flying through the air, falling in the pitch black between platforms, panic rising in his throat as the wind whistling down the canyon threw him around. His hands were grasping at the air desperately. Then his legs hit the ground and he crumpled some of the sharp-tipped plants under his weight. He came to a jarring halt against the wet earth as he heard shouts from above. He had fallen on his side when he landed, and he pushed wet mud away from his face and coughed it out of his mouth.

_Keep moving! Father wouldn't want me to lie down and die here!_

He lurched to his knees and then his feet as the sound of blasters and the lights of a speeder overhead, falling in the mud again. He peered upwards between the tall plants at the lights overhead, hair plastered to his head, terrified.

But he kept moving. He had to.

He dived from beneath the crushed plants and moved deeper into the dark foliage. This platform wasn't being harvested right now – there were no lights rigged overhead like there had been on the other one, and if he kept moving, he should be able to hide in their cover.

He crouched down as the searchlight of a speeder passed overhead, and in the light one of the hutt's goons leaned out with a blaster rifle trailed on the spot light. Luke tried to blend in with the ground; he was covered in mud anyway, so the tan clothing wouldn't give him away. He buried his head and the light past. Then he was up and running again through the plants towering above his head, pushing them out the way. 

Another speeder, the repulsorlifts thrumming loud and brushing the plants into a mad frenzy like a storm on an ocean surface. Luke tried to hide his small frame as they brushed over them, the sound of the engines burning loud in his ears.

"Luke!" A voice called to him, barely audible over the speeder. It passed by and he ran on.

"Luuuke!"

The voice again, and this time he recognised it. It sent a thrill down him just to hear it and he cried out in delight. "Aunt Beruuuu!"

He clambered forward in the dirt as the speeder swept by. "Aunt Beru!"

He couldn't find her. He could hear her voice but with all the noise, he didn't have a clue where she was. He tripped, fell, got covered in more of the soft mud.

Another speeder sweeping over him. He looked around desperately for a way out.

---

Beru looked at her chrono: ten minutes left. She glanced around the huge plants, and looked upwards to the platform Luke had leapt from, saw Obi-Wan sweeping in with his saber, a sight not seen for a very long time, and Owen working with a blaster to take out the guards.

"Luke!" She called into the plants, gripping the blaster tighter.

_Ten minutes, B. Get him and run._

"Luuuke!" she called again. A speeder shot overhead but didn't sweep its light over her. She took comfort in the rifle.

"Aunt Beruuuu!" a voice called back. A grin cracked across her face and she knew he was up and had survived the fall.

Obi-Wan had looked worried at using the Force to levitate Beru down here, but Vader's ship was rapidly approaching and they didn't have any time left for niceties. She looked up and levelled her blaster on a speeder, firing off a shot that bounced off the armour uselessly.

"Aunt Beru!"

She swor violently, then called out again. "Luke! This way!" She pointed the blaster straight up and fired shots into the sky like flares from a dying ship. Mud plastered her hair and she didn't know if Luke would even recognise her if he found her here. A speeder angled in on her position and she dived aside at the shots in her direction, rolling and firing back. It was amazing how easily she remembered how to fight after ten years.

"Luke!"

A small figure appeared ahead of her, sprinting through the thick plants for all he was worth.

"Beru!"

Another grin, this one aimed straight at her young nephew. He grinned back and ran towards her.

"Aunt, Be-"

She was so focused on concern at his appearance, she never saw the speeder sweep in and set off a volley of shots at the small fugitive. The ground blasted up between them in a shower of mud and charred plants. Beru threw a hand up to cover her face.

_Luke!_

"Luke!"

The boy didn't reply.

She clambered to her feet and ran forward, stumbling over the wrecked ground, hair falling from her ponytail and plastering her cheeks.

"Luke!" There he was, face down on the ground. The speeder came back around, seeing her in the open. Infuriated that they had hurt her boy, she threw herself onto her back and fired mercilessly at the speeder. She wasn't aiming well through her blind anger, but she hit the engines solidly, punching the energy beam through to spit the drive. The blaster kicked in her hands and she barely noticed it. The engines flared and exploded in a brilliant, incandescent fireball - the ruined hulk of metal around them falling like a stone to the earth in another spray of mud.

Beru ignored it and clawed herself forward to the prone child's side. She thought it a strange mockery of the boy that he was laid out on the earth staring at the stars like he so often did back at their homestead, hundreds of kilometres away now.

She dug her fingers down to his neck and held her breath. There was a pulse. She almost cried in relief.

Flipping him onto side and front, she looked for blaster burns. There wasn't anyway – the blast must just have stunned him. The mud and the dirt could obscure the smaller burns and bruises, but not something like a rifle burn.

She flicked the comlink on. They had agreed not to use them unless _absolutely_ necessary. "Obi-Wan, I've got him."

"Can you get up here?"

"No."

"Get to the ship."

The link clicked off and she pocketed it. She took the other, small device from her utility belt and activated it. A slave drive. She knew that above her, at the top of the canyon, the ship the Jedi had bought was bringing itself to life and homing in on her.

She put the activated slave back and bent down over the unconscious boy's face.

He seemed strangely at peace as she lifted his face with her muddy hands and stared into the kindly features of a boy she had not seen in far too long.

_I might not be your real mother, but I love you like a real son_.

She pulled the limp boy into her arms, only then noticing the piece of plastic fastened to his wrist.

Tears stung her eyes as she brought the boy into her embrace, hugging him fiercely like she thought he might disappear again at any moment. Kneeling in the dark and the mud, she kissed his dirty face and brushed the blonde hair away from his eyes, seeing the boy's clean spirit shining through his grubby exterior.

She grasped the plastic and tried to pull it from him, but it was stuck to his skin.

"Don't worry." She whispered into his hair as the running lights of their ship descended quickly through the canyon towards the two small figures, "We'll get that off you. I bet they never could make you just a number, could they, Luke Skywalker?"

---

Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Master, had not forgotten how to wield a lightsaber in his eight years of near solitude. The instinct came back to him easily and the blade was buzzing angrily in his hands. The blaster shots were easily swotted aside, and the grim expression on face came not from any danger the slavers might pose, but from the fear that even this small use of the Force might attract Vader's attention. He gritted his teeth and continued the fight, knowing there was nothing to be done about that now. Owen was answering the slaver's blasters with his own, his aim fairly accurate and absolutely determined.

His cloak flying out angrily behind him, Obi-Wan rotated on the heel of his foot and snapped a blaster bolt back its in his owner. The shock of his own blast coming back to hit him in the chest showed on the mans' face before he sank to ground with a sigh. Another shot, another block. Obi-Wan had lost little of his agility and he twisted quickly to block another.

His quick turn showed their small ship falling rapidly down to Beru and Luke on the next level down.

Then he was facing the men again. He leapt, cut, and pierced the heart of an alien that lunged at him with a vibroblade. Another death to add the list. Another pang of guilt.

_Forgot the dead you've left; they will not follow you. _His eyes looked up to the sky and the white dagger against the stars. _But that's not true - sometimes they do._

"Kenobi?"

"I see it."

Another swipe, no time for regrets. These were slavers, pirates, pure and simple. Not at all like Padmé and Anakin had been.

His jaw set at the memory and he blocked another shot.

The loud thrum of repulsors and their ship rose above the edge of the plateau, ramp extended, running lights throwing red over the plants. Rising above it was one of the speeders sent after Luke after the child had leapt from the ledge, its weapons splashing against the armoured hull of Obi-Wan's purchase.

A flick of his finger and he locked the blade, cocked his wrist, set his feet and threw the blade. He didn't manipulate the blade with the Force as he could have done - instead he just hoped his aim was good.

It was. The blue blade sliced through the repulsor coils in the speeder's aft. The slavers tried to fire at the blade as it fell back down to the ground, but they were far too late. Obi-Wan smiled grimly as the repulsors died with a loud crack and the shocked faces of the men disappeared with the speeder, falling to a loud, thunderous explosion on the plateau below.

"Owen, now!" he called. He ran for the ship's entranceway, scooping the hissing saber from the ground and deftly deflecting another volley of shots that came his way.

_This isn't good, if we leave these men here, Vader will know someone had a saber._

His hand went to the utility belt and reached into one of the pouches there, retrieving a small ball-shaped object. He flicked the timer of the thermodetonator on, setting its detonation for one minute. He saw the bulky, dark-haired figure of Owen lurching for the ship, trying to cover his back as he ran, dodging between the tall plants that offered a little obstruction to the slaver's aim.

Kenobi threw the ball far across the terrace and into the plants, burying it deep in the heart of the platform. Even if the slavers realised what that quiet ticking was, they'd never find it in time

He turned and followed Owen to the ship, cloak flying out and obscuring the gunmen's view of him. His saber knocked back any shots that got too close. Then he was at the edge, mentally counting down the seconds.

Up the durasteel ramp, rebounding of the wall. Saber extinguished, pushing into the cockpit to see Beru standing there with Owen, no one at the controls.

"Move!" he shouted, barrelling them out the way.

_20 seconds._

Beru stumbled backwards in confusion, and Obi-Wan saw the small boy out of the corner of his eye, strapped into one of the back acceleration chairs, unconscious.

"Strap down."

He slid into the padded pilot's chair, hands flying at breakneck speed over the controls.

_15 seconds._

"Do it!" he shouted as husband and wife hurried and clambered to obey.

Ramp up, full power to repulsors. Gun the ship around.

The acceleration smashed them back into their seats, Beru nearly falling out of hers as the Jedi hit the thrusters. Her muddy, burnt face took on a scowl before an explosion shook the small ship. The thermodetonator - it sent out a shock wave that quickly washed over the ship. Fire licked at her hull, but Obi-Wan had got her moving in time, and had control of her before the fire has started to recede.

"What in blazes was that?" Owen gasped, pressed back into the seat.

Obi-Wan glanced at the scope. 

_Sithspit!_ The Destroyer was right over the top of them! Where to? Up top, terrain flying again? But the Destroyer might see them.

Down the canyon, then. The sensors might not look for them that way.

"Thermodetonator," he said between gritted teeth.

"What?"

Obi-Wan didn't answer for a second. He had the ship at full speed, falling down into the canyon in a mad plunge, then he straightened her out parallel with the floor and she kicked forward again. Platforms of willowy, dark plants reached up like hands to grasp at the nimble little ship as she weaved between them and the Jedi, not being able to use the Force to guide the ship, couldn't look back at the man to give a clear answer.

"Owen, what's that Destroyer doing?" he asked between gritted teeth, not able to spare the glance for himself.

Left, right, up a bit, nose down. The plateaus were not logically placed and he had to dodge them as they came, only the front lights of the ship giving him any insight as to where they would turn up.

"Nothing yet," the man replied from beside him as he peeled himself away from the back seat and climbed against the g-forces into the co-pilot's seat – Obi-Wan had dialled down the compensator to give him a better feel for the ship.

"If she starts trowing out TIEs, we're in trouble," he said, swiping the ship suddenly and rolling her along her vertical axis. Long plant leaves scraped the cockpit window.

Beru was ominously quite – _she's trying to wake Luke._

"Leave him," he said, then cut off to duck the ship below a suddenly approaching platform, and they were plunged into darkness beneath it. _Come on, come on, don't have a solid rock face at the end _-

They hurtled back out and the sky reappeared above. From Owen's silence he knew the man was gripping the edge of the seat with fear. _This is nothing compared to what Anakin used to do._

He didn't need those thoughts, not now. He stowed them. "Beru, leave him. It's better he's unconscious. Vader won't be able to sense him then."

He juked around another platform in the pitch black, glancing at the scope. Twenty kilometres from the slave centre, still burning behind them.

"What about the children?"

"They were all inside."

The Jedi Master twisted the little craft, shunting power to her right drive, and she dove obliquely between two tightly spaced platforms, the wind whistling over her. He would have bet heavily that Luke would've loved to be in his seat. Another reason to keep him out. 

"TIEs, Kenobi. From the Destroyer's aft."

"Hang on." He took the ship deeper into the foliage, it brushed over them as they scraped the bottom of the platform above. _Why didn't they build this logically?_

"Does he know?" Beru's concerned voice broke through his concentration.

"How many?

"Looks like half a squad."

"No, then. You'd be looking for them descend like a bunch of avenging angels if he knew." Kenobi twisted the ship again in the darkness.

"So Luke isn't that deep into the Force yet." There was distinct relief in the man's voice.

Kenobi was going to tell him the cold truth when another obstacle reared its head. Beru gasped and clung to her seat. Obi-Wan gritted his teeth. 

A steel mesh screen, presumably some sort of heavy-duty stun net to keep the indigs' away from the plantation, abruptly ended the canyon. The Jedi threw the thrusters into reverse and pulled her nose up, drawing an awful creaking sound from her hull as she turned for the stars. "Hold on."

He didn't have to bother telling them; they were glued back into their seats by the force of the move. The ship rose above the mesh, riding parallel for a few heartbeats. Then they cleared the canyon. Obi-Wan twisted her roughly over the net, and they were falling back to the canon floor again, past the stun net.

"I'm going to be sick," Beru muttered at the manoeuvre and Obi-Wan tried to ignore his own nauseous stomach.

"Owen, is the transponder working?"

"No."

"Put it on."

The man stared at him as Kenobi levelled the ship back to the wide canyon floor, clear of the obstructive terraces and able to spare more attention to the couple. "What?"

"Trust me."

"_Trust_ you?"

Obi-Wan winced at the edge in that voice. "I have the encrypt for that slaver's transport. With any luck, we stay hidden and all the Destroyer sees is a transponder signal, they'll think the slavers destroyed the complex. Put it on." Owen glowered, but he flicked it on. "Thank you," Obi-Wan murmured. He turned back to the canyon and slowed the ship a little. "Where are those TIEs?"

"Heading down to the complex."

"Any coming our way?"

"No."

"Good." He turned to the woman behind him momentarily to catch her gaze then looked back to the craggy terrain. "Beru, get Luke to the med station in the back. Is he badly hurt?"

She looked at him with sad eyes. "Not badly, I don't think. Just stunned."

Kenobi breathed a silent sigh of relief. The boy meant too much to loose him now.

_Means too much to the future, or to_ you

He glanced at the scope – Fifty kilometres from the complex. It wasn't visible any more, and canyon was narrowing, coming to an end. Obi-Wan dialled the compensator back up and brought the ship up over the canyon edge as Beru unstrapped the limp child and carried him to the back of the ship. He set the ship straight and had her racing full speed across the desert.


	7. Interlude - Darth Vader

**Disclaimer** – Lucas owns the characters in this story. He's hidden them away somewhere dark and dusty whilst he's got his mind on episode2, so I snuck in and broke them out for a quick jaunt in the sunshine. I wish I was making money from them, but unfortunately it's all in the name of 'fun'.

**Setting** – Eight years post Episode Three.

_Note: this is an old, old story which isn't the finest piece I've ever written! I'm only leaving it here for posterity. It was written before the release of AOTC - hence Owen and Beru's background is somewhat different to the canon explanation for their relationship to Luke. _

**ANAKIN AGAIN?**

**Interlude**

Darth Vader, Dark Lord of the Sith, Commander of the Imperial Navy and unbeknownst father of a certain Luke Skywalker, clasped black-gloved hands behind his back and suppressed a sigh.

"Admiral, have you got a tracking vector on that ship yet?"

Although they had only been under his command for the past five years, the crew already jumped at his every word. Granted, that was at least in part due to the jet-black armour covering his body, the mask deliberately sculpted to strike fear into his men. And the odd execution for failure didn't hurt, either. His hands tensed and flexed into a fist at the temptation to punish someone - _anyone_ - for their failure to track the slaver's transport. How could a _Star Destroyer _fail to track a smugglers ship?

_They were gone before we were in full sensor range, sir._

They might have hidden in the canyon walls, my Lord.

We can't tell from here if they were caught in the explosion, Lord Vader.

The fist tensed again. He was tempted to label them all as imbeciles, except for the fact that he knew they were right. The transport's transponder signal was completely gone, and there was nothing on the scopes. That explosion had distrupted the sensor readings and when it had cleared...

"There's nothing, my Lord. Perhaps we should send down a search crew...?" The fox-faced Admiral was rapidly loosing the ruddy colour in his cheeks and his hands were clasped securely behind his back where Vader couldn't seen them shaking.

"No, Admiral, that would be pointless. Send down a half squadron of TIE fighters to finish off what that explosion started. Get a transport down and collect the children."

"Sir?"

The Admiral blatantly didn't understand the second part of this order. And Vader wasn't about to explain his slavery background to the man. "Fewer questions, more action, Admiral," he warned him. As expected, the man scuttled away, more colour draining from his face.

Vader turned to the viewport and stared at the arid planet below him. _I never wanted to come back here. I _swore _I'd never return here. Not after...everything._

And yet, here he was. Darth Vader was as lot different to the weak Anakin Skywalker, the golden skinned, blond-haired child rescued from slavery by the Jedi. The anger flared in him as the image of Obi-Wan came to him unbidden, swinging his saber, jaw set in grim determination. But the Jedi was dead, along with the rest of his weak little band. And Tatooine would never see another tow-headed would-be Jedi shackled to the hutts again as long as Vader had any control over the Galaxy. Which he did have, and quite a lot at that.

He turned away from the disturbing planet. Why did it keep pulling him back here? It was a strange magnetism. And it was growing. He didn't understand it, and he didn't want to either. He clasped his hands behind his back again and tried not to think too much, or allow the past to creep back up on him. He had a new life now, and he had rid himself of everything connected to the old one. There was nothing left. No nasty surprises to come back and -

"Sir, Mos Espa spaceport control reports tracking an out-bound vector for a transport matching the description you gave us."

"Set course and follow it."

The planet Tatooine slowly receded from the viewport and Darth Vader swore once again to never return.


	8. Death

**Disclaimer** – Lucas owns the characters in this story. He's hidden them away somewhere dark and dusty whilst he's got his mind on episode2, so I snuck in and broke them out for a quick jaunt in the sunshine. I wish I was making money from them, but unfortunately it's all in the name of 'fun'.

**Setting** – Eight years post Episode Three.

_Note: this is an old, old story which isn't the finest piece I've ever written! I'm only leaving it here for posterity. It was written before the release of AOTC - hence Owen and Beru's background is somewhat different to the canon explanation for their relationship to Luke. _

**ANAKIN AGAIN?**

**Episode Seven - Death**

**Chapter One**

Beru carried the painfully light boy into the back, his head lolling against her arm, filthy hair clinging to her own dirty flight suit. His eyes were closed and he could have been sleeping. She brushed at the hair and the small flecks of blood in it, feeling anger simmering barely under control. He was just a _child!_ How could they have done this to him? A child? _Her_ child.

He might not be her own flesh and blood, but he was good as, and it no longer seemed to matter to her whose genes he had.

Beru laid him out on the small med couch and tried to decide what to do for him. Obi-Wan had said not to wake him, but she could at least clean his wounds. She went back to the 'fresher station and grabbed a bulb of water and a white cloth, and came back to the boy. He was so small and fragile she felt to touch him would be to break him. 

Upturning the bulb, she knelt by his side and, ignoring her own filthy state and muddy footprints she had left on the clean deckplates, she poured water onto the cloth. Beru was not herself, she knew. Not the aunt Luke remembered. The meek woman who always acquiesced to her husband's wishes. The serene, cool and gentle mother figure. In the last week she had regressed ten years and she wondered if the boy would notice when he woke. She had rediscovered her strength through the love of the boy.

But she couldn't show that to him; it might disturb the child. She would have to hide the regression, but keep the strength of character and purpose she had gained from this. It was amazing what you could do when something you love is in peril. The former Beru would never have imagined herself fighting for her life with a blaster in her hands in the drug plantations of a crime lord. She had thought her blaster days were behind her. Obviously not.

She wiped the wet cloth over Luke's face, removing the dirt there and revealing cuts and bruises. Her jaw hardened. She stripped him to his thin black tunic and the bare arms underneath showed great ugly black and blue bruises. She rocked back on her heels. They had beaten him. They had _kidnapped_ and _beaten_ a child.

She hoped the boy's father would catch up with them and give them as cruel a punishment he was so famed for.

Great angry welts marked his small biceps, marks from fingernails that had dug into his skin. The anger boiled again at the thought.

_I bet they never could make you just a number, could they, Luke Skywalker? _

---

"There. That looks good." Owen pointed to a craggy opening in the rock side. Obi-Wan nodded and nudged the ship towards the cave. They had to hide out until that destroyer left, and here was as good a place as any – they couldn't very well go back to the Lar's homestead in case they came up on the ships sensors and attracted attention.

The cave lit up with the ship's lights and showed a deep, smooth-sided opening into the cliff face. The Jedi turned the ship around to face the outside night sky and set her down with repulsors. Flicking the engines off, he leaned back into the chair with a sigh. He closed his eyes, and Owen wasn't sure whether it was weariness or worry that was set on the man's features. 

Owen gazed at the man he had once called 'friend' and now considered a dangerous, occasional ally. He felt the need to blame somebody, and here was someone he could vent out his frustrations on. But... somehow, he knew he didn't blame Obi-Wan for this mess. It seemed to have come down upon them all by itself, and the man _had_ come to their aid.

The realisation that he was _grateful_ annoyed Owen immensely.

He scowled and was broken out of his deliberations by the sound of Beru storming into the cockpit. He pushed off from the console in front of him and swung the seat around to face his petite wife. The look on her face shocked him - it was pure anger and it mocked her gentle features.

"B, what is it?" he asked. At the sound of his worried voice, Obi-Wan also turned to face Beru.

"They _beat_ him Owen! He's covered in bruises!" She was ringing a dripping, filthy cloth in her hands, anguish evident.

Obi-Wan was on his feet. "Beat him?"

She bit her lip and angrily pushed away the tears. "Come on." She whirled and threw the rag aside, storming to the back of the small ship.

---

With a dark expression, Owen followed his wife and Obi-Wan sat for a moment in the cockpit, trying to cool his own reaction to the news.

_A Jedi must not act in the grip of such emotions. Clear your mind._

He heaved a sigh and released anger with it. Pushing off the control board, he followed the two figures to the med station.

The boy had been washed clean by Beru's discarded towel, and the bruises were clear to see on his skin. Obi-Want saw Owen stiffen and stepped forward tp put a hand on the man's shoulder. Owen whirled around, his eyes full of hate. Was this the same man who had once denied his love for the child?

"Let's tend those bruises, shall we?" Obi-Wan said calmly. He reached for the med kit above the bunk, and took out the bacta patches stored there, his eyes lingering on the small figure curled upon it.

He peeled them out of their sanitary wrappers and gently placed them over the abrasions. Beru was right – they had beaten him. There was a particularly ugly mark over his right temple. He placed a hand on the boy's forehead and reached out gently with the Force to the boy's mind. It was in turmoil, filled with dark, ugly dreams. His centre also burned very brightly in the Force, barely subdued by his unconsciousness

Obi-Wan sat back, disturbed for a moment at the power there. It was a clean, fresh power. Unmarred by his experiences - yet.

He looked up at the couple standing very close to each other, watching the Jedi intently.

"Do you understand now?" he asked them. They looked down confused and he stood, voice harsh. "Do you understand?"

"Understand what, Kenobi?" Owen placed a hand around his wife's shoulders and suddenly Obi-Wan felt like he was alone in the room.

"Your reaction to that realisation. Your intense, sudden, unstoppable _anger_ at the thought that someone you loved had been hurt?"

Beru shifted uncomfortably. Obi-Wan pierced her with a gaze, "And you, Beru, down on that terrace your anger was as intense. Do you understand?"

She looked to the deck. "Yes," she murmured.

Owen obviously didn't. "What?"

She looked up to him and hugged him tighter. "Owen, the anger I'm feeling right now, the _hate_ that I _acted on_ down there... imagine if we were Jedi. Imagine what we could _do_ with that emotion and that power..." She looked at Obi-Wan. "It's so easy, isn't it, to be overcome by it? Is that what happened to Anakin?"

Dark memories swirled in Obi-Wan's mind. "Something similar," he admitted. "I won't tell you it was completely out of his control, I just want you to understand the danger it puts you in." He gestured to the stunned boy, the mop of blond hair not quite covering the bruise on his temple. "And I want you to see something else. Owen, you're scared of the boy. Of what Luke might become. I want you to know something."

Owen just scowled and Obi-Wan leaned back against the bulkhead. "When Luke was on that terrace, he was shining so bright in the Force that no matter how hard they tried, those slavers could never have broken him. He was Corusca going nova, a brilliant explosion of energy and strength as he opened up to the Force."

Owen stiffened. Obi-Wan put a hand up. "But he never, _never_ acted on his anger. Or his fear. And I can't find anything in him that suggests he ever _did_." He paused. "Do you understand?"

"No."

"He wouldn't submit to them. He wouldn't give in to his fear. And when he refused, they beat him, and then he wouldn't give into his hate." He looked down at the child, so unaware of his importance, "There was nothing but Light there."

Owen stepped closer to the contemplative Jedi Master. "But that doesn't mean there won't ever be, does it?"

Obi-Wan met his steely gaze. "No."

---

"Lay him down in front of the heater."

Owen bunched a blanket under Luke's head as he set the boy down, wrapped tightly in another blanket. "I still don't understand why you want to do it out here, Kenobi," he said, but there was no anger there anymore. Either at the slavers, the Jedi, or himself.

Obi Wan turned from looking out at the dark, craggy landscape and walked to the small outside encampment. Beru was cooking their meagre rations nearby. The Jedi feared that the boy's condition might worsen if he didn't do something, and they could not go to a medical centre. No - Obi-Wan needed to use the Force to treat some of the boy's injuries, but he couldn't do that until the Destroyer left orbit. And finally it had. Vader was gone.

He sat down cross-legged in the small orange glow given off by the heater.. "The Force is created by all things living. I always feel much closer to it when I'm outside in the natural world than in an artificial one."

Owen huffed at that but sat down opposite and watched as the Jedi pulled the small figure into his arms, cradling him. Obi-Wan watched the man's expression. "You're not happy with this," he said as he laid Luke's head against his chest and touched his palm to his cold forehead.

The man shrugged. "Frankly Kenobi, I don't trust your 'Force'. All right, I admit it exists, but it doesn't mean I have to like it."

Obi-Wan wrapped his cloak around the youth in his lap. "I know, but I'm afraid your life will always be steeped in-"

"What?" Owen leaned closer concerned.

"Nothing. It's just for a moment, he looked like..."

Owen's frown returned and he pointed a finger at the man dangerously. "Don't say it, we keep saying that. He looks like Anakin."

Obi-Wan looked up at him with eyebrows raised. "No, I was going to say he looks like Padme."

Owen's eyes shot up, and Obi-Wan realised the thought that the boy might take after his mother equally as much as his father had never occurred to him. "You get over half your genes from your mother."

"I thought Jedi didn't believe in science over semi-mysterious energy fields."

Obi-Wan just shrugged. "I'm going into the healing trance with him. If it looks like either of us is struggling, wake us," he murmured, his eyes already closed. He wrapped his arms around the child.

The boy was like an uncontrollable torrent of energy. It was as if a damn had finally burst - and Obi-Wan had the distinct feeling he was seeing only the very first rush of potential from Luke; that in the boy's core was a deep well of power yet to be discovered.

It unnerved him.

He pressed deeper into the child's mind, trying not to invade the personal ground of hopes and fears, dreams and nightmares. He needed to find the boy's centre, the heart of his awareness, and awaken it. He channelled the cool tendrils of healing energy into Luke at the same time, brushing over the injuries of the past week, working to heal what the bacta had yet to touch.

The mind of someone so young was always fascinating to touch, but this was intense; a bright plethora of images and sounds washing over him relentlessly as the Force-awakened child ran back over the events of the last few days. They were disturbing and the Jedi Master brushed them aside. He didn't want Luke to remember those things too much. He gently reached for the gruesome images and brushed them away from his consciousness.

His awareness stirred as they left his mind and in a brilliant instant, like a window snapping open, Obi-Wan Kenobi completely and utterly knew Luke Skywalker. The boy had reached out on his own and latched onto Kenobi's mind. The Jedi felt himself gasp at the sudden, strong contact as he saw straight into the boy's heart.

_The boy is dangerous, they all sense it, why can't you?_

Except... he wasn't. There was nothing of the same fear he had felt in Anakin Skywalker. No anger, no fear, no lust. Empathy and kindness, but no hate.

Obi-Wan felt relief flood his mind. Had he expected to find a reincarnation of the boy's father lurking here? Maybe, but there was nothing. Only a deep sense of power, not yet controlled, not at all understood.

_Put him in the trance_.

He gently channelled the healing energy into the boy, and slipped them both under the surface of consciousness and into the trance, Jedi Master Kenobi keeping watch on his charge.

---

"...w..er..."

Beru looked up from the steaming pan, and over to the small light where Kenobi sat with her child in his arms. She had showered in the small sonic 'fresher station and got on her old farmer's clothes again. She looked more like the old Beru now, even if she still felt like 'B'.

"...wa..r.."

"Luke?"

"... mmm..."

She left the pan and grabbed a bulb of water from the small rations pile the Jedi had bought with the ship. She rounded the hooded figure and moved the heater out the way to get to her nephew, huddled in his arms. She saw the Jedi's eyes begin to blink open as she brushed blond bangs of hair from the boy's eyes. 

"Be..u?" he tried to say her name but couldn't manage it yet.

"I'm here, honey." She smiled a genuine smile and pressed the bulb to his lips. "Relax, okay?" Big blue eyes tried to focus on her and reach a hand out but he didn't have the strength.

"Stay still a while longer, son."

Luke looked up at the voice and seemed surprised to be in the arms of Kenobi, awake now and gently lifting him down. "Ben?"

The Jedi nodded and smiled. "That's right. Stay still now."

With Beru's help they laid him out of the floor, still wrapped in the blanket. Luke blinked tiredly and squirmed a little, but he didn't try to get up. He gritted his teeth as his bruised back hit the floor. Beru saw it and stood up. "I'll get a patch." She said, and walked back into the ship to get the medkit and it's pain suppressors.

Obi-Wan watched her leave in a bustle of skirts, then turned back to the small, dazed figure. "Well, young Luke, you've had a bit of an adventure."

He looked up with that intense gaze of his. "Yeah..." He pouted.

"Didn't like it?" Kenobi tried to keep the hope out of his voice.

Luke pursed his lips in thought and Obi-Wan suppressed a chuckle at the very adult expression. "Well... I guess it was sort of fun," he mused. "Except for..."

He went very pale and Obi-Wan realised those memories had swum back up again.

He placed a hand on the boy's shoulder and channelled a little cooling energy into the boy. He sucked it up greedily and unconsciously as Obi-Wan put compassion in his voice. "Luke, why don't you tell me about it?"

Tears formed in the corners of the boy's eyes and Obi-Wan saw him to try to suppress them. "I...I don't want to."

"Luke, it's not good to keep those feelings all tied up inside." Obi-Wan said, aware of the contrite psychology he was giving the child, but he carried on. "You don't want them to develop into something more. It's okay to hate what happened, but you can't dwell on it."

Not quite true, like a lot of things they told Luke. The reaction wasn't what he expected. The boy got up on an elbow and leaned intently towards the Jedi, brow puckered. "But I don't hate him."

The Jedi looked at the boy. "Who?"

"Ermmm... the man..." He looked confused, a small hand rubbed over his brow. "Tate."

"Who is Tate?"

"The slaver., Luke said, voice very quiet, barely audible.

"He beat you?"

The boy flinched away and an intense look of pain flickered across his face. "Umm-hmm."

"But you don't hate him."

Under the Jedi's intense gaze, the eight-year-old was faltering. "No... I..." He looked at the floor and refused to meet the gaze. "Aunt Beru says you shouldn't hate when..."

"When?"

Beru sat down beside Obi-Wan and he started. He'd been so intent on Luke, he hadn't noticed the woman approach.

"Luke, that man hurt you. It's okay to feel bad about that." Her voice was kindly. She stripped a pain suppressant patch from its flimsiplast back and placed it on Luke's shoulder. He relaxed visibly.

But he did squirm under the Jedi's intense gaze and Obi-Wan felt Beru resist the urge to tell him to leave the boy alone. "But he wasn't bad! I mean... not _all_ bad... I don't think..."

He seemed lost in thought and Beru raised her eyebrows. Obi-Wan grasped Luke's shoulder. "How do you know that? Did he show you kindness?" Was that hope that had crept into his voice?

"No... he hit me. He told me I wasn't a person." His eyes came back up, bright and intense, "But I _am_ a person."

"I know, Luke." Obi-Wan smiled kindly. "Why did you think he wasn't all bad?"

The boy fidgeted, then looked straight up into the man's eyes, not flinching. "I just got the feeling, that's all. He wasn't all..." he was searching for the right word, "darkness."

"You felt that?"

"I... I know it sounds dumb." His hands balled into fists and in the heater's light his blond hair was afire, "But... I just got the feeling...like, you know, you have stars in the night sky, you know?"

Obi-Wan leaned back and stroked his beard thoughtfully. Luke stared at the floor as the memories welled up. Beru moved to his side and hugged him to her, looking up at Obi-Wan with a questioning look on her face. She mouthed 'what?' but Obi-Wan just shook his head. Luke had seen something through the Force, he was sure. Something allowed him to see past the man's actions to his heart. It was a curious extension of the natural empathy the boy often showed. It was something to think about.

**Chapter Two**

"I think I finally understood why you insisted on him keeping the name 'Skywalker', Obi-Wan." Beru came to the cave entrance and sat on a flat stone rock beside him, staring out at the rising dawn.

"He needs it. It gives him strength," Obi-Wan said, studying her profile. "Is he sleeping?"

She nodded and looked out on the commanding view from the ledge, the sand bathed in the dull morning tones and the first sun beginning to rise with a streak of orange in the distance. "Yes, like a baby."

"I meant Luke."

She cracked a smile at him and he winked back. She shifted on the rock and leaned back against the wall, sighing deeply, hands folded over her stomach. "Obi-Wan, tell me he's going to be okay." She shrugged. "You know, even if you're not sure, just tell me."

He looked over at her again, trying to gauge her expression. "Why?"

She scowled at him, the rising sun blushing her cheeks. "Can't you Jedi ever give a straight answer?"

"You didn't actually ask me a question."

"Hmmm..." She looked away, pursing her lips.

"Beru... he's still a youngling."

"You looked pretty shaken on that canyon top, Obi-Wan. What did you see?" She turned towards him, eyes burning. In the entranceway of the cave, Owen appeared, leaning against the wall with his shoulder.

He sighed. "Just... a very bright light." She looked sceptical. "There are a million different directions his life could go in. Some are good, some are bad. There's no way we can know which it will be, and it would be counterproductive anyway. Luke _is_ a good child. And that thing with... Tate, was it?"

"Yes." 

"Well it's a good sign, I believe. I can tell you that. I'm not sure the boy really has a capacity for anything else."

"Not yet," she added for him. He nodded, _yet_. Anakin had seemed like a good kid, too. "And he's going to keep growing in the Force isn't he?"

"The damn has burst and we haven't even begun to see the flood yet." His eyes took on a very distant look. She scowled at him for being so cryptic. She knew what he meant, though. She starred distantly at the view. "I want to train him," he said.

There was a silence. Then an angry growl from Owen. "Never."

Obi-Wan turned to him slowly. "Owen, if I don't, he'll be completely alone, and confused, and _scared_. And he'll start discovering what he can do by himself, no guidance." He stood, cloak behind him, putting all the strength inherent in a Jedi Master into his stance. "Do you have _any_ idea how dangerous that is?" His eyes were burning with memories.

Owen stared back stonily. "You're not training him, he's far too young."

"The Jedi train from infants-"

"You, alone, are _not_ the Jedi." Owen's own eyes were set. "And besides, look at what a mess they made!" Owen's hands were folded determinately over his chest. "No. That will always be the answer Kenobi - _No_."

Obi-Wan looked at the floor. Owen would never budge on that point. Never. The man had come to Obi-Wan when he needed help, when this mess had started, because he needed to protect the child. And he was still trying to protect the boy. This time from the Jedi and all the pains his father had suffered from the Force.

There would be no move on this. Owen was as vehemently opposed to training Luke as he was to letting Vader get his hands on him.

As it had been when the child was born and delivered to the Lar's, so it was now.

No training. No Force. No _Jedi_.

And Obi-Wan couldn't leave the child alone in the Force. It was far too cruel. He sighed. "Then I suppose I haven't got any choice."

"What do you mean?" The man attempted to tower over him, ready to defend his nephew. Obi-Wan smiled grimly.

"I can't leave him so open." He looked up at Owen, then at Beru, quiet and scared in the corner. "I'm going to have to cut his connection to the Force until he's ready."

Silence.

Owen glowered, Beru studied her hands.

"He'll never be trained, Kenobi. Only over my dead body."

The Jedi Master's eyes came up. "Owen, when the Force decides it is time, neither you nor I nor the entire Imperial Navy will be able to prevent him from discovering himself."

Under the certainty in his eyes, Owen shifted uncomfortably. "Can you do that? Cut his connection?"

"Not completely. But I can suppress his memories a little, and build back those barriers that he broke through," he said, not entirely certain he could, but not having much choice. The very idea of it went against everything Obi-Wan believed in but..."I'll give him his childhood back. Will you let me?"

Owen's eyes shot up menacingly. "As if you really need our permission," he growled.

The old resentment was back. The old hatred of Obi-Wan and his kind. The danger was all but over, and now Owen was falling back in his old ways. Obi-Wan turned to Beru. "If you ask me not to, I won't. But it will be hard on Luke, very hard."

She stared at him for a long time, glanced at her husband once, and nodded.

"Do it."

---

"Hi Luke, how you feeling?"

"Good."

The boy was lying and Obi-Wan knew it as he sat on the edge of the bunk. "That's great. We'll get you back to the farm soon." Obi-Wan reached into his cloak and pulled out a small tube.

"What's that?" Luke asked, staring at it.

"This? This is something which will get that band off your wrist." He said, and held out his hand toward the boy. "May I see it?"

Luke nodded and held out his right wrist, showing the strip of plastic firmly attached to the skin there, frowning at it. Obi-Wan saw it. "You're right Luke, never forget your name. It's a big part of you." He squeezed out the clear solution and spread it over the edges of the band. The solvent would dissolve the glue. Hopefully.

"I know. Father wouldn't have wanted me to give in."

Obi-Wan glanced up at that but said nothing. "Hopefully this should come off without any marks. Certainly you won't be scarred for life." He smiled, and Luke looked relieved, but suddenly as he held the boy's right wrist, something ran through him that made him shiver violently.

"What's wrong?" Luke sat bolt upright and looked at the man.

Obi-Wan looked down at his hand around Luke's arm and forced himself to accept the premonition he had felt.

_It won't scar for life because you won't_ have _that hand for life..._

He forced down another shiver at the certainty. The Force was rarely definite about the future, but this seemed to be such a strong feeling - that whatever path Luke took, he would not have his right hand forever.

_Many cultures_ _place the Light side of the person in the right hand, and the Dark in the left hand. Is loosing the right symbolic of something?_

He shook the thoughts away. "Nothing, I'm just a little chilly. How about you?"

"No, I-"

"Ahh, here we go." He slipped the band off Luke's hand after slitting in open with a vibroblade and looked at it. "I suggest you keep this Luke. Remember who you are, and more importantly, who you are _not_."

He placed it aside and Luke nodded seriously. Obi-Wan smiled at that and went to put the solvent away.

"You got a burn in your cloak."

He turned to the young boy. "Pardon?"

"You got a burn." He pointed at the cloaks side, "Right there, see?"

Obi-Wan looked down and saw a charred blaster burn in the material. He frowned at it. "So I have." _Chink in your armour, Obi-Wan?_

He looked at Luke. the boy's cheeks had more colour in them now, his lips full again. He was smiling sheepishly. The Jedi's heart fell at what he had to do, at what he was about to deny the boy. He looked so full of Light, bathed in the Force. It was attracted to him, and he was attracted to it. And Obi-Wan had to sever that link.

He took a deep breath.

"You going to get a new one?" Luke asked.

"Yes, Luke."

He sat on the edge of the bed and ruffled the unruly mop of blonde hair, eliciting a grin from the boy. "I can't believe I slept through the flight out." Luke pouted. "Bet it was good."

Obi-Wan just smiled. "Luke, I need you to relax a little now, sleep so you heal some more," he said. The boy looked confused.

"I'm fine, really."

"You will be, Luke, I know. Just lay back and get some sleep." There was Jedi suggestion in the words and Luke complied, lying back against the bunk.

The Jedi Master pulled up a chair and placed his palm on Luke's forehead, his hand covering the whole of the small child's brow.

He eased him into a light trance. "I'm sorry Luke. They're just trying to protect you. Maybe, one day, you'll understand."

---

Luke leaned forward in the co-pilot seat as Obi-Wan brought the ship into a slow glide over the outskirts of the Lars' moisture farm. Obi-Wan glanced at him. He was still enigmatic, but he now longer shone with such a brilliance, he was just a small but intense flame. Like he was on 'stand by'.

The Jedi felt a pang of guilt at what he'd have to do, but he knew it was the best solution. Luke would grow up like a normal child, and he knew Beru and Owen would do their best for the boy, but to deny him his natural progression in the Force...

"Look! There!" Luke leaned forward in the seat, staring through a pair of macrobinoculars he had found stashed away. The kid hadn't left them alone, he was always looking, observing.

In the distance, you could just make out the small homestead.

Beru came forward and ran a critical eye over the child. He was going to be fine. The bruises would fade, as would the memories, especially under Obi-Wan's mental suggestions.

"What's that?" She frowned out the window as smoke could be seen billowing from a distant 'vaporator. "Focus in on that."

"I got it!" Luke said, looking through the binoculars. He bit his lip. "It's a wreck..." he said.

Then their home came into view and Beru put her hand over her mouth. Obi-Wan looked, and saw the destruction there. "Owen!" She called and leaned forward.

"What happened?" Luke whispered, wide eyed.

---

Luke charged down the landing ramp of Ben's sleek, beautiful ship, barely noticing it as his feet hit the sand. He was compelled forward to the smouldering homestead, even as Beru appeared at the ramp, tears in her eyes, hair and skirts blowing around her, calling him back.

He didn't stop, he couldn't. He ran forward and slowed above the sunken courtyard, seeing the broken possessions littering it in small, slagged pieces. He barely even noticed the stiffness in his muscles or the way screwing his face up in horror pulled on the bacta patch across that big ugly bruise on his temple.

He stared around bleakly, nearly dropping the macrobinoculars where he had them clutched in his small hand.

_But, my home..._

The wind lifted his hair in a hot gust and blew it around as he turned back to the ship and threw his aunt and uncle a stricken look. She just looked sad and his uncle was flushing bright red with anger at the sight. Beru turned away as Luke turned back to their home.

Even he knew this was bad. Everything they had worked for destroyed. A cold sadness settled over him and he sat down heavily in the sand.

---

Obi-Wan stared at the destruction; Beru wandered around as if lost. Was it the Imperials? No – there were bantha tracks, single file.

"Looks like sand people raided whilst you were gone." He glanced up as Owen looked around the land, squinting.

The Jedi had set the ship down with a plume of sand and grit, near to the homestead. Luke was sat in the sand a way off, letting it trickle through his fingers, head bowed. For once, the sun wasn't shining here, and Obi-Wan felt the intense sadness from the small family.

"Sand people..." Owen growled. With the Imperial threat, he had never stopped to consider the indigenous dangers of Tatooine. He shook his head sadly, staring at the smoke and durasteel hunks that had once been their precious 'vaporators. "It's all gone..." 

Luke turned from the homestead, his back to the destruction, looking back at the ship and the two men stood side by side, stricken, wind blowing his hair around him. Pain and sadness were radiating off the small child.

This was not good. He had meant to return the family to their old life, hoping things would continue as they had for the past eight years. At least give Luke a decent upbringing. "What are you going to do?" Obi-Wan asked quietly.

Owen's shoulders shivered. "I don't know," he admitted. For once the hate was not directed towards the Jedi.

Obi-Wan turned to him as the boy looked down sadly at the ground. "I'm going back to Mos Espa. I'm going to sell the ship, I have no need of it anyway."

Beru looked at him with grief in her eyes for their past life.

"Yoda gave me that money to look after Luke. I'll give you what I get for the ship."

Owen turned to stare at him, wanting to thank him for the gesture, unsure of what to say. "I... thank you."

Obi-Wan shook his head and sat on the sandy ground. "The money was meant for Luke, and the best we can give him right now is a decent childhood. And that means rebuilding the farm."

"Thank you." Beru sat next to him. "That means a lot."

_Not enough, though. Not enough for you to trust me with training him. And I don't blame you._

"I don't know if we can repay you."

"Just bring the boy up the way you have been doing, that's payment enough. You've shown me I made a good choice in giving Luke to you. We'll deal with the future when it comes."

Luke looked over at them and smiled weakly, got to his feet, and ran to join them.

**Epilogue**

Obi-Wan walked slowly and calmly away from the building. The ship was sold, the Imperials had gone, and that just left one small detail.

He mentally counted down the seconds as he walked away from the building, very aware that he was destroying a last link to a rocky and troubled passed. And glad of it.

Obi-Wan lifted the cowl of his new homespun cloak as the explosion blossomed behind him, the thermodetonator taking out the slaver's warehouse in a rapidly expanding fireball that hid his face in shadow.

Not incidentally, it also slagged the aging podracer hidden inside. 

Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi shrouded himself in the long dark material, hiding himself behind the visage of an old, crazy wizard. 

The explosion died and Ben Kenobi was born.

At least temporarily.

For the sake of Balance.

For the sake of a small, disarming young boy.

_Fin._

_The Lars rebuilt their farm within a season with the money given by Obi-Wan, the work proving a good distraction for Luke when Beru finally declared him fit. In the manner of eight-year-olds, the memories of that week faded into an adventure._

_Beru asked Owen not to call her 'B' anymore._

_Owen forbade Luke from mentioning 'Ben' again for fear of reawakening the Force talent inside him._

_Luke found it anyway, over time. And Owen continued to despair at the small miracles that occurred from time to time. Luke also dreamt constantly of piloting that strange podracer he had stumbled across._

_Obi-Wan saw the boy occasionally, although never by Owen's intentions. Their relationship soured further when Obi-Wan wanted to give the boy his father's lightsaber on his tenth birthday. There was to be no mention of that damned old wizard in that house again._


End file.
